


Swan Song

by Bayzen



Series: I Don't Lie Series [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Seventh year, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 57
Words: 67,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayzen/pseuds/Bayzen
Summary: Things have spiraled out of control in the wizarding world. With the Carrows running Hogwarts under Snape's lead, the school has become a dangerous place, and the students, Remington and Draco included, are soon to find out just how dangerous that can be.





	1. How To Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter and all associated content belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
> This work was originally posted on Quizilla, then FanFiction.net.  
> This is the third and final installment of a three-part series. Preceded by "I Don't Lie", then "Burning Bridges".

_Don’t worry about me, Rem.  
Draco_

She smoothed the worn parchment with the tips of her fingers before folding it back to its small dimensions and tucking it somewhere she knew she wouldn’t lose it. Though she was very aware of the amusement Draco would get out of the fact, she didn’t want to misplace the letter, for whatever reason. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that it was her proof that he was alright, or at least _alive_ , or that it was the only letter that he’d ever sent her. But she’d kept it safely in her bra since she’d received it. If ever she grew worried, or even if she missed him, she’d pull the square of paper out and give the much-more-than-simply-familiar handwriting another glance.

Even though the summer holidays had only been around for a couple weeks, she was hating it. She wanted to be back in Hogwarts. She wanted things to be right. And most pressingly, she wanted Draco.

The last few days at the castle had been horrible. She kept to herself and spent most of her time in the sixth year Gryffindor girls’ dormitory, trying to distract herself with reading when she could, and staring up at the canopy of her bed when she couldn’t.

Nobody really knew how to deal with this development, particularly when they already had enough on their plates with Dumbledore’s passing. Or murder, rather. So, Remington was left to fend on her own. Besides, if she really wanted comfort or company, wouldn’t she make some effort to attain it? Wouldn’t she speak to any of her dormmates, even as a passing gesture?

She attended the funeral, much like most of the other students. However, much _unlike_ them, she didn’t cry. She felt emotionally exhausted as it was, having had one thing thrown at her after another since her father’s accident. And on the journey back to King’s Cross, she found herself in the Slytherin compartment.

Blaise had sat beside her, though he didn’t speak to her. She seemed perfectly complacent, staring out the window as the rest of the compartment’s occupants chatted idly. Pansy even refrained from making any scathing comments, meeting Rem’s gaze once with a slightly fair expression on her face, as if her animosity was soothed. Theodore Nott even deigned to introduce himself, and she managed a smile in return. When they’d reached the station, but Remington didn’t show any signs of having realized it, she felt a slight pressure on her leg, near her knee, and looked over to see Blaise looking at her in a way that showed a sliver of reassurance. The look evaporated quickly and they left the compartment with only a few words by way of goodbye. On the platform, Fay had enough gall to hunt her down before she could escape and hug her farewell. Though, when she met Ginny’s eye as the redhead found her family, the girl merely gave a nod of acknowledgement. To think they’d been good friends, once upon a time-

She stood up and pulled her hair up before heading out of her room. Where normally, she’d sleep until late afternoon if she was given the chance, she couldn’t manage to let herself sleep past eight. Even so, she could tell she was starting to look healthier. She was no longer losing any weight, though gaining it back was a different issue altogether. It no longer appeared that she had two black eyes, though there was still a darkness beneath them. She wanted to know if Draco was doing any better.

It always came back down to Draco.

Her mother glanced up from the dining table as she came down the stairs. It looked like she was in the middle of writing a letter, but when she caught sight of her daughter, she stood up, picking something off the table.

Marissel had been oddly quiet for the past couple weeks, and Remington had started feeling a sense of relief at the lack of reprimanding that had gone on in their household. Her mother was curt, but not cold, for once.

“An owl came early this morning.” Marissel said quietly, fingering a sheet of parchment. “While you were asleep.”

“Yes?” Remington piped, looking interestedly at her mother. The thought of Draco possibly writing to her crossed her mind and refused to leave, though the reserved, awkward way her mother was behaving had started to spin an air of foreboding.

Marissel swallowed, looking at the paper for a moment before handing it to Remington.

Rem flashed an uneasy look at the woman, but quickly unfolded the parchment. It was in handwriting she hadn’t seen for a while, and it looked as though a child’s sticky fingerprints had been smeared on one of the bottom corners.

 _Rem_  
_I don’t know if you may have already heard, but in the case you hadn’t, I’m writing to you. I’m not really sure how to say this..._  
 _Some Aurors were sent to check out a disturbance at Natalie’s address a couple days ago. The house was trashed and abandoned. The outlook isn’t good._  
 _If more news comes up, I’ll owl you. But I wouldn’t expect anything._  
 _Love, Celeste_

She probably would’ve read it twice to be sure she hadn’t hallucinated seeing what was written, but instead looked up at her mother. “You don’t-” She felt a tremble start to slip into her words and stopped herself for a second to keep a sliver of composure. “You don’t think they’re... dead?” Her voice broke on that last word. Saying it aloud seemed to crack her resignation and she felt her eyes beginning to feel fuzzy, but held back any tears.

There was a sad look in Marissel’s eyes as she met her daughter’s gaze. And for once Remington was sure that her mother’s claims of fondness were entirely genuine. Marissel held her arms out slightly, a welcoming gesture she’d never expressed before. She couldn’t remember a single hug from her own mother.


	2. Coping

Her wand turned angrily on another tree as she walked through a small forested patch at the back of her home’s property. Several of the trunks she’d passed by showed blatant signs of her upset, and of earlier bouts of indignance, fear, despondency. Her charm had worn off earlier that year, when she’d turned seventeen, the same day she’d spent hours in the star-ceilinged room with Draco. Her spells were no longer tracked or punished.

Most of the gashes in the trees’ bark, the dark scorch marks, the mangled branches were due to her anger at herself for _not being able to do anything_. She was stuck with her mother for two entire months. She could perhaps visit Fay, if she wanted badly enough for company, but she didn’t know what sort of danger lingered over her own head, and whether it’d be a threat to others, as well. She had no idea how much of the past year’s actions and decisions reflected back on her. If her hand in Draco’s life had made her as much of a target as he was. Or if she was completely overlooked, hidden away with the skill Draco had in Occlumency that she would never possess.

That fact provoked her just as much. She’d had a conversation with Draco once, about why she wasn’t able to master Occlumency, but he was. Even though they were both so well cutout for Slytherin, which was her initial idea of what it took. He’d told her that it was the same reason that she’d fallen in love with him first. She’d tried so hard to be aware of everything, and know exactly where her feelings landed her. She didn’t separate her emotions from her mind. Whereas, _he_ tried so hard not to let himself feel anything towards her. He’d compartmentalized his life so that he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the undesirable aspects at once, to keep himself from distractions. She had laid everything out in front of herself so she could try to put it all together.

But now, she severed a deep gash into a young oak, not because of anything to do with Draco, but because of everything she couldn’t, and _didn’t_ do for Natalie. Natalie had _told_ her, and she’d been right. They were picking the Muggle-borns off one at a time. And yet, Rem had let her best friend slip between her fingers, thinking their disagreements about her love life made their friendship tedious and painful. And now, Natalie was gone. Most likely, perpetually.

She wished there was a way the trees could fight back. A little bit of challenge might clear her mind a bit more.

These next six weeks would be near unbearable, if they continued like this.

She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, quite surprised she hadn’t started crying. She’d managed not to cry, other than immediately after reading the letter. She could imagine that she’d face much worse things yet, before this would all end, and if she broke down into a mess every time something happened, she wouldn’t last very long. So, instead, her tears turned into anger.

Her mother allowed her to wreak havoc in the seclusion of the trees, so long as she kept a reasonably low profile. No explosions. No loud bangs or otherwise conspicuous noises. Just small things that she could do without attracting attention, but still releasing her stress. She needed to do so somehow, and it was better to sacrifice a few half-century-old trees than the antique-valued furniture.

Sometimes she spent hours out there, though most of it was wasted by just sitting on the ground and trying to forget about everything but the quietude. It always sounded so silent until she focused on everything else.

It was getting monotonous.


	3. Wayfare

Her fingers tapped a spontaneous rhythm on the kitchen counter, a pencil lying abandoned just a couple inches away. She’d woken up not even two hours earlier, and hadn’t yet bothered to change into anything other than her sweatpants and tee shirt.

“Remington! Get the door!” Came a shout from the back porch. Remington looked back towards the screen door. She hadn’t heard a knock, nonetheless the doorbell.

“Are you hearing things, Mother?” She asked.

“Door!” Marissel repeated, about as sing-song as she suspected her mother could ever be.

“But I’m- UGH!” Rem groaned, hopping off the barstool she was seated at, leaving a peanut butter sandwich and a half-finished Sudoku puzzle unattended. She started towards the door, wiping her mouth in case she had any peanut butter or bread crumbs on her face as she walked through the sitting room and into the entryway.

Compared to most of the elitist families who still claimed a small fortune, the Alvers always seemed to live modestly. At least, _seemed_ to. Being that they had inherited the resources of the Orpington, Alvers, and a fraction of the Prince families, they were reasonably well-off. Of course, they had to be if there had been no source of income since Timothy’s death.

In America, they’d had a cozy two-story blue-shutter, white picket fence home. It was one of the larger in the small town, of course, but still only had three bedrooms. And it was a bit of a surprise to Remington that her mother hadn’t decided to move into anything much larger when they settled on the edge of a town not far from the outskirts of London and its suburbs.

As soon as you walked through the finished oak front doors, you were greeted by the sight of the stairs to the second floor, with a small sitting room to the right, and a living room to the left. The entire bottom floor made a circle around the steps, and the second floor comprised of two reasonably spacious bedrooms, and two more moderately-sized ones.

It was homey, Remington supposed.

As she reached for the handle of the door, she couldn’t help but wonder who on earth would be visiting. She knew better to think her mother made an attempt to make friends with any of their neighbors. Perhaps some door-to-door salesman like the Muggles complained about, or-

Her train of thought fizzled out abruptly as she pulled the door open, to see an all-too familiar blonde in front of her. She almost got the urge to slam the door shut and open it again to see if she was imagining things, but she wasn’t about to make a fool out of herself just in case she wasn’t.

He merely looked amused at the expression she had, which was more than likely _plenty_ entertaining.

“What are you _doing_ here-” She started to say, then, “ _How do you know where I live?_ ”

“Relax, Alvers.” He told her, “You can ask your mother that question.”

“What do you- _She_ told you to come?” Rem asked, still not fully processing that Draco was at her front door.

“She told my mother that I was _entirely_ welcome to stop in for a visit.” He shot her a slightly smug look, “Are you going to invite me inside, Alvers?”

Remington rolled her eyes and stepped aside, “I’ll have to have a word with that woman.” She muttered, then made a sound of irritation, “And _that’s_ why she made me answer the door, I’m betting-” She broke off, looking back the way she came to call to her mother, but stopped herself short, halting halfway through an intake of breath and blinking before looking back at Draco. He gave her a bit of a look, not really certain about her attitude.

Without saying anything, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, stretched onto her tip-toes. “God, I’ve missed you.” She mumbled against the side of his throat.

He held her against him just as tightly, burying his face in her hair. “I’ve missed you too, Rem.”

“I was so afraid-” She started, her voice still cracking, even though she was speaking under her breath.

“It’s alright.” He assured her.

“I love you, Draco.” She whispered.

“I love you.”

She tightened her grip for a moment before she released him, running her hands under her eyes, just in case. She gave a slight laugh at her weakness, but he just pulled her wrists away and pressed his lips to hers. She pushed him back.

“Don’t do that.” She said, her face slightly flushed. At the imploring, even slightly affronted look he had, she told him, “I might end up attacking you.” She muttered.

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk just as Marissel rounded the corner, “Oh, Draco! How nice it is to finally meet you!”

Remington quickly pulled her hands away from him and turned to look at her mother.

“Likewise, Missus Alvers.” He responded, ever the well-bred pure-blood, but Remington just spoke across him.

“Might I ask when you were planning on telling me about this, Mother?” She clasped her hands behind her back, ignoring the way the woman frowned at her interruption.

“Don’t be rude, Remington.” Marissel chided, giving her daughter a scathing look.

“ _Mother-_ ” Rem began, only to be promptly interrupted.

“Why don’t you show Draco around, hm?” Marissel offered, her voice pointed and terse. “I’ll go have a word with the elves about supper.”

Remington merely set her jaw and glared at the back of her mother’s retreating dark blonde head.

“What a pleasant woman,” Draco murmured, “I really don’t see what you’ve complained so much about, Rem.”

“You haven’t seen _anything_ yet.” She mumbled back, shooting him a look from the corner of her eye. “Come on.” She tossed at him before she started up the steps. She took a left at the top and walked into the open doorway to her room.

“You really don’t waste any time, do you, Alvers?” He remarked dryly as he cast a glance around the room, taking in the dark hardwood floor and the walls that had obviously undergone a recent painting. It looked almost as if a crayon factory had exploded all over the four vertical surfaces of the room, with the exception of the two windows.

“Don’t even start with the suggestive comments.” She told him, turning to sit on the end of her bed, her feet dangling over the decorative mahogany footboard. “It’s not like you care at all where the living room is.”

“Fair enough.” He closed the door quietly behind himself.

“Have a nice summer so far?” She asked quietly, knowing full well she was treading murky waters as she watched him slowly cross the room towards her, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t think I’d say that.”

“You’re not the only one, I’ll assure you.” She propped her elbows on her knees and settled her head in her hands. “If it weren’t for the fact that there are people in this world I care about, everything would be perfectly unremarkable.”

“I could make a vain comment,” He said, “But I have a feeling you’re not talking about me.”

“Well, I told you.” She began, her eyes on the floor, “I missed you. I was practically drowning in worry, especially before I got your letter. But that’s not the end of it.” She lowered her hands to grip the footboard, still not looking up. “I got an owl a little over a week ago. It was from Celeste – a pure-blood I went to school with at Nexxford, a good friend-” She paused for a moment. “Nat’s family… disappeared. Taken by force-”

When she dared to look up at him after a couple beats of silence, she saw only a very slight warmth in his eyes. It was so much better than what any normal person would do, with their apologizing and gasps at the horror of the situation. She didn’t need that. It wouldn’t help. Some part of her still wished he’d offer a bit more comfort, though.

“I just needed to get that out of my system.” She mumbled, picking at the varnish on the wooden bed frame.

He moved to lean against the post at the corner of the bed. “How were things after I left?” He inquired. She could sense a second question running beneath his words.

“I didn’t get in trouble, if that’s what you’re wondering.” She told him, turning her head up to look at him. “For the most part I just stayed in my own little world for the last couple days. Let’s face it, I don’t exactly have an excess of friends, so once you left-” She shrugged slightly, glancing at the clock hanging from her wall.

“What about Blaise?”

A slight smile tugged on her lips. “You get a kick out of the fact I get along better with your friend than my own, don’t you?”

“I can’t deny-”

She rolled her eyes. “For your information, I sat with your lot on the train to King’s Cross.” She shook her head slightly and her eyes trailed to the shut door. “What do you think it’ll be like this year?”

“Hell,” He replied, “Living hell. Snape’s going to be Headmaster-” She knew this. It’d been in the Prophet only a couple days ago. She had a feeling, though, that Draco was aware of this development before the general public was informed.

“That’s not so awful.” She disagreed. “It’s not like he’ll have it out for me, or you-”

“The school is going to be run by Death Eaters, Remington.” He hissed, leaning towards her slightly.

She turned her head to cast him a scathing look. “And I’m in a relationship with one, but that’s alright?” She prompted.

“That’s different-” He said after a pause, seeming a bit taken aback. “I wouldn’t-”

“Wouldn’t what?”

He got the distinct feeling she was looking for something to argue about. “I’d never hurt you.”

She averted her eyes, pursing her lips to keep her features from betraying anything.

“It’s offensive how little faith you have in me.”

She opened her mouth to shoot something back at him about how he should cherish what faith he had, but a pop sounded through the room. Rem’s eyes landed on the small form of a house elf, standing in the center of her room with his hands clasped in front of him, round hazel eyes flicking meekly between the two teens.

“Wevel.” Remington said, her voice a bit more chipper than intended. She felt Draco’s gaze settle on her. The elf looked about to make some sort of announcement. “Let me guess, my mother decided on some unnecessarily formal supper.”

Wevel gave her an almost sheepish look. “Wevel is to tell Mistress Alvers that supper will be served at six o’clock.”

“Mission accomplished.” She remarked, “Thanks, Wevel.”

The elf dipped into a swift bow before Disapparating.


	4. Unnecessarily Formal

Paying no mind to the pointed look her mother kept shooting her direction, Rem pulled her feet onto her chair and crossed her legs Indian-style. Her eyes flitted across the dining table’s surface. Though it could never warrant a comparison to Hogwart’s meals, there was a greater array of food set out than she was used to.

She spent the majority of the time pushing her mashed potatoes into strange shapes on her plate, her chin balanced on her hand as her mother tried to instigate conversation. Rem couldn’t keep her thoughts away from her father, imagining how he’d argue in complacent tones against Marissel’s demands of a large dinner. How he’d try his damnedest to bring up every little embarrassing detail of Remington’s childhood and make any comment he could to humiliate her further, being that she’d never brought a boy home before. She so wished her father could have at least _met_ Draco.

Her mind trailed absently to the chain that had remained around her neck since March, the ring that dangled on the end of it. She still hadn’t managed to work out exactly what Draco had meant by telling her to keep it. But, what else could it mean that she was now in possession of a Malfoy ring?

Her father should have met Draco.

She was utterly zoned out of whatever was going on at the table, until she heard a few choice words come out of her mother’s mouth.

“You’re free to spend the night, if you’d like, we could have one of the house elves freshen up a guest room-” Marissel began.

“There are two people living in this house.” Remington interrupted, feeling her skin warm. It wasn’t at all that she didn’t want Draco to stay, but rather how _inappropriate_ it seemed that her mother was asking her boyfriend to stay in the house. Overnight. “You don’t think you should maybe, run this past the other person, or-”

“Remington. Don’t be rude.” Marissel chided.

“Me? Of course. I’m not the one being rude-” Rem began, but trailed off when she caught sight of the glare she was receiving from her mother. “Perhaps you should keep looking for other employment options.” She suggested under her breath. “Your matchmaking is a bit annoying.”

Her mother stared at her for a moment, and Remington could see Draco in the corner of her eye. By the way he was covering his mouth, she knew he was trying to make it look as though he was keeping a straight face.

“One more smart remark from you, and you’ll be going to bed early.” Marissel said, though her tone was severe enough to make it sound like more of a threat than a warning given to a misbehaving child.

“I’m _seventeen_ , Mother. Not seven.” Rem said, “Hell- I’m an adult-”

“Remington.” Marissel snapped.

“Fine!” She shot back, crossing her arms on the table and glowering at her plate, having set down her fork earlier in the disagreement. Then she realized that she’d just offered all her mother needed to argue that she was _not_ an adult. Or at least, not behaving anything like one.

She could feel Draco’s eyes on her, and reluctantly turned her gaze up at him. Though his expression didn’t betray anything, his eyes were _laughing at her_. She sneered slightly at him, making the corner of his mouth turn up just slightly.

She knew her mother was watching the exchange when she heard her next words. “I’ll call one of the house elves after supper.” Marissel said quietly after a couple seconds.


	5. Of Battle Scars And Disapproving Mothers

“I would apologize on my mother’s behalf, but I’m sure she’s not sorry at all.” Rem raised a hand to rub her temple, glancing up at Draco, whose eyes were on a slice cut into one of the trees in the stand behind her house. He merely looked slightly amused. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of what she was saying, or if it was because of the fact her frustrations were displayed blatantly in front of him. “What’s so funny, Malfoy?”

“Obviously,” He began. “You haven’t had much experience with traditional pure-blood families. Most of the Slytherins’ parents are much more overbearing than your mother.” He turned his attention away from the maimed tree.

“That’s something I can’t imagine.” She buried her hands into the pockets of her cardigan.

“Most people can’t.” He shrugged slightly, then his gaze caught a scorched tree trunk behind her, then another beyond that. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Good God, Remington.”

“It’s a coping mechanism.” She said a bit too quickly.

“What do you think you’re going to do when we get to Hogwarts, Rem?” He asked, “I really don’t think you’ll be allowed to go into the Dark Forest and start attacking the trees.”

“Well, I’ll have you then.” She reasoned. “Not- to attack, but-” She added when she caught the look on his face.

“At least not in that context, right?” He suggested with a small smirk.

She tried to look affronted without letting a flush seep through. She liked to think she succeeded. “You- I mean, not having you around is what’s causing the majority of-” This still wasn’t working. “I’m _worried_ about you, that’s why!”

He pursed his lips slightly. “Don’t worry about me, Rem.”

Those exact words she knew all too well. “That is _much_ easier said than done.” She crossed her arms. “If you haven’t-”

“You _really_ don’t have any faith in me, do you?”

She stopped mid-sentence and looked at him. “Alright.” She allowed, her voice terse. “Keep yourself alive, or I’ll kill you myself.”

He made a derisive sound and rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried, Alvers.”

“Really?” She prompted. “You really want to test that?”

“I’m under the impression you have some steam to burn off.” Indeed, he was twisting his wand in his hands.

“And you’re not even trying to suggest an- even less appropriate way of accomplishing that?” She arched her eyebrows. The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. _Oh. That’s how it was._ “Don’t push your luck, Malfoy.” She told him as she pulled her wand from her back pocket.

“Karma owes me.” He responded just before she made the first move.

He blocked the curse and sent another back in a single fluid moment. She had a feeling that he’d been practicing, often. She was just about to reflect the attack when her mother’s voice cut across the back yard.

“It’s getting dark, Reming- Good _Lord_ , what are you doing?”

Rem’s counter to Draco’s spell ended up messy and largely ineffective, and she found herself sitting on the ground, her hands forced onto the ground behind her, scratched by the foliage. She had a feeling that she was at least a yard or two from where she started.  “Jesus Christ, Mother, we were dueling.” She shot back in the general vicinity of the house, her eyes pressed tightly closed, a bit dizzy from her sudden impact.

A hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her to her feet. With one hand, she gripped Draco’s shirt, and the other she flung out to press against a tree so that she didn’t just fall right back to the ground.

“Alright?” Draco’s voice was low.

She nearly nodded, but then thought better. She cracked her eyes open and looked up at him with a wince. “You’ve gotten good.”

He pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t smile at the comment. “Only good?” He prompted.

She pushed him away lightly and retracted her hand from the tree, glancing at the scrapes indifferently before wiping her palms on her jeans.

“You got blood on my shirt, Alvers.” Draco remarked.

“Cry me an ocean.” She told him, starting to head back towards the house, where her mother was standing on the back porch with her hands on her hips.

“What on earth-”

“Calm yourself, Mother- it was only friendly sparring.” Remington assured her mother as she approached. “I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Because I was _so_ concerned, Alvers.” Draco murmured from behind her as her mother’s scowl lightened the tiniest bit before she turned to move back inside the house.

Rem just rolled her eyes as she walked across the porch, into the back of the kitchen, and immediately headed for the second floor. Once she reached the top of the stairs she saw her mother in the doorway to her respective room. She gave Remington a pointed look and closed the door behind herself. Restraining herself from another eye roll, she gestured at an open door on the opposite side of the landing from her own. “I think my mother intends you to stay in there.”

“Intends?” He asked quietly.

“Well I highly doubt she’d rather you stayed in my room-” Rem rested her hands on her hips and looked back at Draco.

He noted how much she reminded him of her mother only a moment prior. “I get the feeling she’d be secretly ecstatic.” He kept his volume low so that Marissel wouldn’t overhear.

She couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes this time. “I really shouldn’t be the one telling you to behave.” She muttered before turning towards her door.

She heard him say something under his breath as she stepped into her room that sounded suspiciously like, “Then don’t.”

She kicked her shoes off and went to pull her cardigan from her shoulders, but realized that her hands were still lazily oozing blood. With a quiet sound of frustration, she turned back out of her room and crossed the hall, where she pushed Draco’s door open with an elbow. On the other side, she found him in the middle of changing out of the shirt she’d managed to stain.

He glanced up at her before he pulled the clean long-sleeve shirt over his head. She forced herself to keep a perfectly composed expression. “Miss me already?”

She gave him an unamused look and held her hands out, palm-up. “You caused it, you get to fix it.” He snatched his wand off the bed and walked over to the door, silently casting a healing spell over each hand in turn. “I should demand you kiss it better, like you did way-” She quieted as he raised the hand he was still holding and pressed his lips against the heel of her hand. He smirked at the look on her face. She quickly pulled her hand away. “I was only joking.”


	6. Mum's Favorite

“Would there have been any way around getting the Mark?” She asked softly, feeling the slight rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek.

“Only his most trusted followers are given it.” Draco replied just as quietly. If Rem’s mother caught wind of Draco being so closely tied to the Dark Lord, she may rethink her favoritism. Remington, however, had a feeling it wouldn’t really change all that much.

She didn’t say anything right away, looking out a window on the wall of the guest bedroom. She knew she should’ve gone to her own room a long time ago, but she’d ended up on Draco’s bed instead. She knew she’d have to travel back across the hall before her mother woke up, but she was more than aware that he’d be leaving within twelve hours. That’s when the worry would kick back in.

“You were sixteen.”

His arm tensed around her. It was more than obvious when Remington was determined to start an argument. “It was supposed to be an honor.”

“It’s a _curse_.”  She argued under her breath. “You can’t even-” She cut herself off abruptly before she said anything too incriminating, like _if my mother were to barge in, who cares about the fact that she found me in your room at two in the morning- what about the Dark Mark branded on your arm_?

“Do you _have_ to bring this up-”

“Well I beg your pardon for thinking for a moment how much I’d like your shirt _off_ , and remembering why exactly that’s a horrible idea.” She snapped, straightening up and glaring down at him. His arm fell away from her to rest on the bed, though his glower faded at her words and he merely rolled his eyes.

“You can find a reason to yell at me in absolutely everything.” He muttered.

“I’m not yelling.” She countered.

“If your mother wasn’t sleeping on the same floor, you would be.” She scowled at him for a moment. “And don’t go getting all dramatic and deciding to leave now because-”

“I shouldn’t be in here in the first place.”

“Remington, your mother loves me-”

“Do you want to see how much she loves you when she has reason to suspect that you were screwing around with her daughter just across the hall from where she was sleeping?”

“When we haven’t even removed any clothing-”

“There’s plenty you can do without _removing clothing_.”

“And you would know?” She could see the makings of a smirk even in the darkness.

“Don’t even start-”

“I could always show you-” Oh yes, that was a smirk.

“ _Draco Lucius_!” She hissed, hitting him in the stomach, though she had to admit that it was a weak effort.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position so that he could look her in the eye. “Who gave you the right to use my middle name?”

“You’re in my house, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

He cast a sly smile her way. “So what does it mean when you’re in Malfoy Manor?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but it took a moment for her to formulate the words. “I am not dignifying that with an answer.”

He gave a quiet laugh and leaned forward to press his lips against hers. She probably kissed him longer than she should have, but it was all with the rest of the summer of not seeing him in mind. Then finally, she managed to convince herself to return to her own bedroom.

The next morning, she could really feel the sleep she’d forfeited the previous night. The bags beneath her eyes reminded her of the less desirable parts of the majority of the past two years. She didn’t bother doing any more than brushing her hair before stepping out of her room in the sweatpants and tank top she'd slept in. It was earlier than she normally would have liked to get up, but she knew that her mother would be expecting her to come down for breakfast at a proper time due to their guest.

However, when she looked across the hall, she found that Draco’s door was still closed. She crossed the landing and tapped her knuckles against the wood. When no response came, she pushed the door open.

For a moment, she leaned against the doorframe and looked in at him. She was surprised he was still sleeping. Normally, he always claimed he couldn’t sleep.

“Draco.” She raised her voice slightly. He gave a slight start and his face scrunched up a bit as he squinted at her. “Time to get up, Lazy.”

He pushed himself onto an elbow. “Calling me names already, Alvers?” He prompted, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and index finger.

“I debated casting Levicorpus for a moment, but I decided that would just be plain mean.” She responded.

He lowered his hand and gave her a look. “Thank you.” Even after having only just woken up, the sarcasm was obvious.

“My mother’s probably sitting at the dining table waiting for us, so maybe you could work on the sense of urgency-”

“Good God, Alvers, let me wake up, will you?” She arched her eyebrows and kept silent, locking her hands behind her back. “If you’re so impatient, then come in here and help me get dressed.”

She made a face at him and turned out the door, swinging it shut behind herself.

Sure enough, when she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw her mother at the dining table, a discarded Prophet lying before her. Remington had noticed that her mother insisted upon receiving the Prophet daily, though she hardly ever seemed to really read it.

Once Rem stepped off the steps, her mother looked up at her. “I assume Draco should be down before long?” Marissel remarked.

“I just woke him up, actually. It doesn’t take him long to get ready, though.” She said off-handedly, then felt her face warm up when she realized the implications of what she said. Her mother was watching her intently. “Don’t look at me like that, Mother.” She wanted to snap the sentence out, but there was a plea beneath her words.

“When did you go to bed last night?” Marissel effectively changed the topic, though Remington didn’t like the new venue any better.

“I… can’t remember.” She offered weakly, taking a seat at the table.

“I’m sure.” Her mother stated calmly. “I’m also quite sure that you were where you belonged the whole night through.”

Rem scowled, “You can scold me all you want later, but would you please-” She broke off at the sound of a door opening on the upper floor.

“Good morning Draco.” Marissel greeted just as stoically as she’d been as of yet.

“Good morning Missus Alvers.” He returned, walking forward to take a seat across from Remington, who’d propped an elbow on the table and buried her face in her hand. It was obvious that Draco was perfectly aware that he was now under Marissel’s scrutiny.

“Well,” Rem remarked, dropping her arm. “Now that we’ve made it sufficiently awkward, what’s for breakfast?”


	7. For Sore Eyes

“I know you don’t like writing home,” Marissel said quietly, “But I want you to write often, even if you don’t have much to say.”

Remington nodded slightly as they walked through the crowd on Platform 9 3/4. She understood her mother’s reasoning. It wasn’t unlike how she’d asked Draco to write to her after he’d left Hogwarts with the other Death Eaters. “I’ll try.”

She felt her mother’s hand brush her arm, “Be careful, Rem.” The woman told her softly, offering a half-hearted smile before she turned to leave her daughter to herself.

Remington headed toward the train, looking through the mass of people in case she saw a familiar face.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” The voice came quite close to her ear. She shot a glance over her shoulder to find that Blaise had taken up stride next to her.

“Could say the same for you.” She commented, “It’s been a long summer-”

“I could bet the school year will be even worse.” He said, stepping up next to the stairs onto the train, allowing her to go first.

“Don’t remind me.” She shot at him from over her shoulder. Her voice dropped, “I heard the Carrow twins are taking over Snape’s post.”

“And that Burbage woman- she was ousted in the beginning of summer.” He added, peering into compartments as they passed to find one that was either empty, or housed someone they knew. “One of them will have to replace her.”

“The whole place is going to hell.” She muttered, pausing when she spotted Pansy sitting in one of the compartments, Nott across from her, a discarded Prophet at his side.

“Alvers,” Pansy greeted with a venomously sweet smile, “What a pleasure to see you back again.”

“I’m sure.” Rem returned curtly, dropping onto the seat next to Nott, who was rolling his eyes at the Slytherin girl’s antics.

“And Blaise.” Pansy flashed a coy look.

“Barkinson.” Blaise answered with an arch of his eyebrow. Pansy scowled at him.

“Now’s not really the time to be turning on each other, don’t you think?” Nott commented.

“Blaise and I were just talking about that, actually.” Rem remarked.

“ _Something_ along those lines, anyway.” Blaise reiterated.

“Blaise wouldn’t ever dream of admitting he wants friends, lest Armageddon sets in.” Pansy mumbled.

“Sounds like a common trait for your lot.” Remington glanced at Pansy.

“Your lot, too, Alvers.” The other girl told her, “You’re pure-blood. I’m sure you understand.”

“What does that have to do with being pure-blood?” Nott prompted, “Look at the Weasleys.”

“Rather not.” Blaise muttered.

“Alright, the _honorable_ pure-bloods. Does that sound better, Theo?” Pansy offered.

Rem bit back a comment that they would probably all find rude and brushed her hair out of her face.

Pansy smiled to herself, pleased that she’d made Remington uncomfortable and satiated everyone else. “I’ve heard you’d gotten a promotion, too, Alvers.” She said, tipping her head slightly. “Prefect? It’s about time Granger got kicked off- and _out_.”

Ignoring the jab at Hermione, Rem arched her eyebrows, “Promotion? I’d assume you got Head Girl, then.”

“Sharp one, you are.” Pansy said, and Remington couldn’t tell if it was meant to be teasing, insulting, or some sort of compliment. “I am, of course. And your handsome boyfriend is Head Boy.... Shame that he chased you down, otherwise we’d have been in a perfect position. Me and him in head positions together and all.” She waved it off as if it were nothing.

Remington’s eyebrows were still raised. Blaise was watching her from across the compartment, the corners of his lips curved the slightest bit in amusement. “Of course.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “No need to _act_ entertained, Alvers. I’m not oblivious.”

“What a lie.” Nott mumbled, shooting Pansy a joking, placating smile, yet still earning a glare from the girl across from him.

The door to the compartment slid open and everyone’s eyes moved towards the sound. Rem’s gaze met with Draco’s for only a fraction of a second before he moved inside and took the spot beside Blaise, across from Rem. God, he was so far away-

“Took you long enough.” Blaise commented.

“You know how my mother gets.” Draco replied. Nott barely suppressed a snort. Draco eyed him irritably.

Rem rolled her eyes and stood up.

“Where are you going, Alvers?” Blaise inquired.

“To see if anybody’s glad to see me.” She answered, opening the compartment door and looking back at him. Her eyes flicked at Draco. “I’ll be back.”

She only made it halfway down the train before she was stopped. “Rem!” The voice caught her attention and she looked back to see Fay leaning out of a compartment. She tried to make her smile look as non-forced as possible. After a moment, Fay rolled her eyes, “Get in here!” She hissed.

Remington started back down the corridor and slipped into the compartment, which seemed oddly empty, even with the unusual company of Luna.

Neville didn’t look very happy to see her, Seamus was more uncertain than anything, Luna gave an airy wave, Ginny offered a reluctant smile, and Fay yanked her through the door when she hesitated. Rem noticed that this was one of the first times Fay hadn’t greeted her with a hug.

“Where is-” Remington began a bit nervously as Fay plopped onto the seat and patted the spot beside her in invitation.

“You couldn’t’ve thought Harry, or Hermione or Dean would be here.” Neville interrupted her as she took the place next to Fay.

Of course she didn’t think Harry or Hermione would be there, and to be honest, she wasn’t exactly surprised that Ron wasn’t, either. But it was still a shock; half of the people she knew hadn’t returned to Hogwarts. “Dean-”

“He couldn’t prove his father was a wizard.” Seamus informed her, giving her a look that twisted her stomach. “They would’ve carted him off.”

Rem raised a hand to rub her arm uncomfortably.

“So you’re still going with Malfoy, I take it.” Ginny commented.

“I-” She began, “Yes.”

“He’s not a very nice person.” Luna remarked lightly.

Remington turned her eyes on the blonde girl, “No, he’s not.”

“Then why the bloody-” Seamus began vehemently.

Rem immediately raised her voice, “I didn’t come here to argue about my love life!” She snapped. “I don’t plan on leaving Draco anytime soon, so unless you want to spend the rest of the year bickering, I suggest you accept the fact.” She stood up, but Fay snatched her wrist and pulled her back down.

“You don’t have to be such a prat about it.” Fay mumbled, but gave her friend a heavy look. Rem’s attitude wasn’t going to make her any better-liked.

“I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated with the fact that everyone seems to think they have any say in who I’m dating.” Remington muttered.


	8. That Is All

After nearly a half hour of trying to get along like a good little Gryffindor and get back on half-decent terms with everyone, Remington managed to think of an excuse to leave the compartment before she mucked things up again. Once more, she’d hardly picked a direction to start walking before someone vied for her attention.

Draco cast a look at her as he passed, and like the obedient girlfriend she really wasn’t, Rem fell into step behind him.

There were far too many students who wouldn’t be at Hogwarts. Far too many empty compartments. She followed Draco into one of them towards the back of the train, sliding the door shut behind her. With a deft flick of his wand, the curtains pulled shut.

“What?” She prompted, eyeing him.

“I figured there were things you wanted to say. Without company.” He reasoned.

“Aren’t you observant.” She remarked.

“Anyone could see the way you tensed up when I walked into the compartment-”

“I was in a small, enclosed space with a bunch of people who either hate me, us, or was Blaise.” She argued, “Of course I was tense!”

“What’s wrong with Blaise?”

“Nothing’s wrong with Blaise, that’s why I isolated him!”

He rolled his eyes. “Nott doesn’t have a problem with you.”

“Crabbe and Pansy do.”

“That’s not even half of them-”

“I’m just-” She scrunched up her shoulders, then relaxed. “I’m not comfortable with them. Blaise is fine, I’ve had to deal with him enough, but-”

“It’s mostly Pansy, isn’t it?” He inquired, leaning back against the window. She cast him a serious look. “She _wants_ to get a rise out of you, you know that.”

“I’m not-”

“An idiot?” He finished for her. “ _I_ know that.”

She raised a hand to rub her forehead. “Snape elected me prefect.” She told him. “I’m sure you could have guessed.”

“Considering there’s a whole of three other girls in your dorm, and you’ve got preference to begin with.” The corner of his lips turned up slightly.

She scowled. He clearly didn’t see the downside to the situation. “Think about what it will mean to be a prefect this year, Draco.” She said quietly. “I don’t want this.”

His expression sobered a bit, “Would you rather one of the others have to do it?”

She exhaled deeply and shook her head, looking at the floor. He pushed away from the window, taking a step in her direction. “There’s no winning, is there?” She mumbled.

“Afraid not.”

Her eyes flicked up at him. “What about you? I know you’re head boy-”

“I don’t expect that Snape will allow me to turn the position over.” He gave a slight shrug. “I think we’ve reached the point where these little inconveniences don’t seem to matter all that much anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t still annoying.” She muttered, glancing at the window that would have showed her a scene of the corridor if it wasn’t covered with the curtain. “The Gryffindors are all acting like they’re walking on eggshells. Around me.”

“Don’t worry about them, Remington.” He told her.

She exhaled heavily and looked at him. “You don’t suppose the Slytherins will be missing you?”

He rolled his eyes slightly and took one more step towards her, closing most of the space between them. “They can wait a few more minutes.” He mumbled before pressing his lips against hers.

**=+=+=+=**

In order to get into the school, every student was accounted for on a list. If your name was not on the list, you were taken from the procession. Remington knew better than to think that there was any other reason a student’s name wouldn’t be listed except for if they were Muggleborn. The two people heading this search were, as Draco had informed her under his breath while they waited in line, the Carrow twins.

Finally, after everyone was accounted for, they were ushered into the Great Hall. She took her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, venturing so far as to sit with Fay and the others.

“I cannot _believe-_ ” Fay had been saying as she came within earshot.

“It’s not _all that_ unbelievable, Fay.” Ginny told her darkly. “Snape isn’t about to let a Muggleborn walk into this school.” Her eyes flicked up at the man in question, who was seated at the head of the staff table. Then the redhead’s gaze flitted to Rem for a moment.

She ignored the jab, letting her eyes rest for a moment on her godfather, with the Carrows sitting on either side and the rest of the staff looking extremely displeased. Well, except, perhaps, for Filch. No surprise there, other than for the surprise that they were keeping a squib employed in a Death Eater-controlled management.

“He still like your father, Remington?” Neville’s voice drifted to her. She turned to look at him, a bit taken aback by his tone. She’d never known Neville to be anything but passive-submissive.

“Do I have anyone else to think of like that?” She returned quietly, her gaze sharp.

Fay was looking between the two apprehensively, but suddenly the room began to fall silent. Snape had stood up from his place at the head table.

He began with a welcome that couldn’t possibly be described as warm, along with a recital of the areas of the castle that were off-limits, and new rules that tightened the students’ leashes even more than ever before, with the possible exception of when Hogwarts was under Umbridge’s reign. For the most part, Remington idly twisted her spoon in her hands, watching her reflection distort on its silvery surface, almost entirely ignoring Snape’s speech.

“Lastly, but by far most importantly, a former student of this school has been befittingly named as Undesirable Number One. If any students are aware of Harry Potter’s whereabouts, they are to speak with the Deputy Headmaster, Deputy Headmistress, or I as promptly as possible. Similarly, any knowledge of suspicious behavior in any students should be reported directly.”

Rem let her gaze trail up to the dark-haired man standing front and center. She wondered for a moment how those words tasted to him.

“That is all.”


	9. Sixes And Sevens

She swung the door to the Headmaster’s tower shut behind her, crossing her arms as she strode across the floor, looking at Snape, who sat behind his desk, hands folded in front of him. She’d been called up to speak to him just as she’d caught up with Draco after the feast.

“You decided to make me Prefect?” Remington demanded as she moved forward and took a seat in a chair that was set up in front of his desk. She noted that very little seemed to have changed since Dumbledore’s use of the room. It seemed darker, but that could have just been due to context.

“Was there anyone better suited in your year, Remington?” Snape inquired. “You have a far better grasp of what threats we are facing. It would be nothing but cruelty and foolishness to give any of those girls the position of seventh year Prefect.”

“But you _know_ they’ll be expecting things- _horrible_ things. For keeping students in the line you all see fit-”

“And that is why I decided not to chose you to be Head Girl.” Snape informed her.

“ _Head Girl_?” She repeated. “You chose Pansy Parkinson, then?”

“Her allegiances are far simpler, and far easier for her to attain.” He said, “Rather than adding more weight to your shoulders, particularly with how narrowly we avoided a calamity after your involvement with Draco.”

“I’m _still_ involved with Draco.” She corrected sharply.

“I’m specifically speaking of your aid in his task.” Snape said, “It is more than just a wonder that the Dark Lord is yet unaware of the ties between you and Draco. Or, has in the least, not exploited them.”

Remington glowered at the floor.

“Though, I haven’t called you to my office to chat about the dangers you’ve imposed upon yourself.” He began, earning a sharp glance from Rem. “This is strictly about your responsibilities as a Prefect.” She looked at him, inviting him to continue. “If you are to assign detentions,” He began. “You are not to put them in the charge of the Carrows.”

“You’d prefer to head the detentions?” She prompted dryly.

“You are actually quite correct.”

“What’s the significance?” She inquired, tipping her head to the side.

His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, as if he was disappointed in her for not having the sense to figure it out herself. “Are you at all aware of what punishments the Carrows would have in mind?”

Her lips curved up slightly, “So there is a heart in there somewhere.” She joked.

He looked entirely unamused. “As a prefect,” He continued, “You will be doing nightly patrols-” She knew that better than she should have, thanks to all of the times she’d run into Draco in her afterhours strolls in fifth year. “And due to the fact you are all _too_ aware of the large-scale situation, and you are also quite old enough to handle necessary responsibilities,” Though, she noted that the look he gave her suggested he wasn’t entirely sold about that last bit, “I’ve seen to it that you receive more shifts than would normally be assigned.”

She tried to force down her irritation at that, knowing that things would be better off that way. “Please tell me this means that the years below me won’t have to do many patrols.” She didn’t want to have to see the fifth year prefects wandering the halls at night while the Carrows were loose in the castle.

“That is the purpose entirely.” He told her. “I will also be selecting other seventh years to take over patrols in order to relieve the more… naïve students.”

“Assumedly, you’re going to recruit a bunch of Slytherins.” She remarked.

“You assume correctly,” Snape’s eyebrows arched the slightest bit. “Unless you have any suggestions.”

“Of course not. You wouldn’t heed any of them, anyway. Though, I can’t fathom why you’d waste the time being polite.” She said, “I would name Neville as a good choice, but I doubt he’d agree to it.”

She could see the reluctance in his eyes, but to her surprise, he didn’t disagree with her. “Mister Longbottom is already a prefect, therefore he should be attaining his own patrols.”

“Prefect, really?” She prompted, then realized that there were only two Gryffindor boys in her year and pursed her lips.

Snape said nothing in response, simply giving her a knowing look. “I suggest you prepare yourself for tonight. Your first shift begins in an hour.” He commented.

She pushed herself out of the chair and turned to head towards the door, but only got a couple yards before she turned back to look at Snape, who had already focused his attention on an array of papers on his desk. He _always_ had papers.

“Draco,” She began a bit apprehensively, causing him to pause, but not look up. “Has been having nightmares. I was hoping-”

“If Mister Malfoy is having trouble sleeping at night, he can speak to me himself.”

She took a deep breath, eyeing the man for a moment before she turned herself around and walked out the door.


	10. Let's Hear It

Not even a full day into her stay at Hogwarts, the castle already seemed perfectly familiar. Like she was back home from somewhere strange. She knew these halls too well, she noted as she walked the corridor on her patrol. She’d hardly veered from the two closest floors to the Gryffindor common room so far. She couldn’t imagine that there would be any real reason for worry on the first day back.

Her sneakers were about as close to silent as they could be. Surely, the bottoms were nearly worn smooth by now. As she cast a look down on them, she saw that they were no longer the bright maroon they’d been when she bought them, but rather a dusty, uneven burgundy. One of the laces was fraying a bit at the end. There was a hole worn through the right shoe, near her small toe.

She should probably consider getting a new pair. The thought was hard to grasp, considering that those shoes had been with her since she first walked into Hogwarts, and had ran the floors of the Ministry in fifth year when Death Eaters had broken in, and they’d been bloodied a few times as well. They’d soaked up tinged water when Draco had been hit with _Sectumsempra_ , and picked up the blood that had been on the floor the night Dumbledore had died.

Those shoes were disgustingly sentimental.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her attention snap back, and her pace stutter for just a moment. She pulled her wand from her back pocket, just in case, and continued towards the corner of the corridor, where the noise was coming from.

She couldn’t really say she was all that surprised when an overly familiar blonde stepped around the corner. She came to a stop and pursed her lips.

“What are you doing out?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Could ask you the same thing.” He returned, moving towards her.

“I’m on patrol tonight.” She replied simply, turning to head back down the hall. Draco fell into step beside her. “I guess it’s in the job description.”

“Snape wanted to speak to me about the specifics of _my_ job this year, actually. I was heading back to the dungeons.” He informed her. Of course, the staircase to the Headmaster’s office was on that floor.

“I had that discussion earlier.” She remarked.

“That’s what he wanted, then?”

“More or less.” She shrugged, unfolding her arms and slipping her wand back into her pocket. “I take it you don’t have a patrol tonight.”

“Remington, I highly doubt Snape will ever have us patrolling on the same night.” He told her.

“Why not? Just because-” She began.

“I’m sure he assumes we’d end up a bit, ah- _distracted_.” He breathed the last word into her ear.

She lightly pushed him away and rolled her eyes. “I think I’m a bit more professional than that, Malfoy.”

“Snape obviously knows you better than you know yourself.” He commented.

She shot him a look. “Who else do you suppose is on patrols tonight, then?”

“Pansy. She was leaving the common room the same time I was.”

“Well I’m glad I haven’t ran into _her_ yet.” Rem muttered.

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that.” He said, “She’s probably sticking close to the dungeons.”

“Probably doesn’t mean much.” Rem murmured, looking up at the clock hanging at the end of the hall. She’d be out all night and it was still only a little before one. The first day of school would be hell to get through, that much was certain.

“Come on.” He said quietly, veering slightly to push open the door to a disused classroom.

She ground to a halt and fixed her eyes on him. “Not this again, Draco- I have responsibilities right now.”

“How many times did you interfere with _my_ patrols in fifth year?” He shot back. “It’s the first night, Rem. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“That’s a terrible mindset.” She stayed rooted to the spot, but after a couple moments of meeting his unwavering gaze, she gave in and slipped into the room. “Sometimes you have the worst ideas-” She started to say, folding her arms again and turning to look at him as the door swung shut.

“I don’t want to hear it, Alvers.” He cut her off. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against him, and his lips brushed her temple.

“Please tell me you’re not planning on doing what I think you’re planning on doing.” She mumbled.

His lips curved into a smile against her skin. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” His mouth traveled to press beneath her ear.

She managed to unfold her arms from between them, still in half a mind to push him away. As if he could sense this, she could feel his arms loosen on her, but when she tried to take a step back, her ankle hit something solid and he in turn moved forward, effectively pinning her against a desk, his hands pressed flat on its surface on either of her sides.

“I could call you some very offensive names right now.” She remarked, pressing back against the edge of the desk.

“Let’s hear them.” He murmured, but he was clearly being rhetorical, because he promptly caught her by the mouth, leaning into her.

There was no resisting Draco at that point. She pushed herself onto the desk, raising her hands to trail her fingers into his hair. Yes, this was going exactly where she knew he wanted it to.

“Of course it’s you two.”

Or not.

Remington turned her head sharply to the side, her hands falling to push against Draco’s chest, more than simply embarrassed to be caught in such a position, no matter who by. He remained unmoved for a moment.

“God dammit, Pansy.” He said, sounding annoyed, frustrated, and angry all at once, before he turned to glare at the girl who stood in the open doorway. Rem’s sheepishness began to abate when Draco was no longer between her legs.

“I hope for your sakes that at least one of you is meant to be on patrol right now.” Pansy remarked, twirling her wand in one hand. “It’d be a shame to get in trouble the first night of the year.”

Draco looked very much like he wanted to tell her where to shove her threat, but Remington quickly interceded. “It’s my night for patrols.” She said, deciding that she’d upset either one or the other if she said anything more.

“Well then maybe you should be out here, Alvers.” The dark-haired Slytherin ceased her wand-spinning and thrust a hand onto her hip. “I’m not any happier about walking in on you two than you are, so let’s not let it happen again, hm?”

Rem merely rolled her eyes and slid off the desk, heading towards the door.

“You’re full of it, Parkinson.” Draco snapped as he passed her, clearly still not pleased about this turn of events.

“Better than what you’re full of, Malfoy.” Pansy replied, unshaken. “Now back to the dorms with you.”

“You’re in no position to tell me what to do.” He shot at her.

“Just go,” Remington told him, giving him a look. “It’d be hell if neither of us got any sleep before tomorrow.”


	11. From Day One

Of course, the tiny crack in Rem’s curtains allowed the sun to shine right across her eyes. She’d managed to climb into bed just as the sky was starting to turn grey. She’d gained just short of an hour of sleep.

Frustrated and overtired, she shoved the curtains aside and looked out at the other three beds in the dormitory. Fay was the only other girl awake, sitting up beneath the covers, looking perplexedly at a sheet of parchment.

“Do you know anything about this?” Fay waved the paper at Remington.

“What’s it?” She asked.

“About patrols.” Fay mumbled, looking at the sheet again.

“Snape chose a few students to help the prefects with patrols.” Rem remarked. “I guess he wasn’t as disappointed with you as you thought.”

“Apparently.” Fay muttered. “It says my first patrol is next Monday.”

“Mine was last night.” On cue, a yawn surfaced.

“What time is it?” Lavender’s voice drifted from her bunk.

Rem pursed her lips and climbed out of bed as Fay replied.

Fay turned out to be the only other Gryffindor girl to be set with patrols. Remington didn’t stick around to find out if any of the boys had them or not. She was dreading Potions being the class to kick off her year.

**=+=+=+=**

“For the last time, Blaise,” Rem said under her breath, quite obviously frustrated, “I didn’t sign you up for the patrols! Snape _chose_ you. I had nothing to do with it.”

But the dark-skinned boy merely shot her a look from the corner of his eye and turned his attention back on Slughorn, much like she should have. Draco sat on her other side in silent amusement, only half-paying attention to the speech about Lethifolds and their contribution to potion-making.

“You’re behaving like a first year.” She mumbled in Blaise’s direction.

“I beg your pardon for actually _paying attention_ to the lesson.” He shot back at her just as quietly.

“You’re trying to give me the silent treatment; we both know it.” She retorted.

“Would you two cut it out already?” Pansy snapped from beyond Blaise.

Blaise merely rolled his eyes, Remington shot the other girl a razor-edged look, to which Pansy simply arched her brows in a ‘ _so there_ ’ expression before looking away.

Early that morning, Blaise must have also received a letter informing him that he was on Snape’s list of seventh years who were going to be doing the patrols he’d spoken with Rem about, and he was none too happy. He’d made one fleeting, sharp comment about it just as soon as Remington had found him and Draco in the Great Hall, and he’d stayed pointedly silent until halfway through their first class, which happened to be Potions.

Despite everything, the classroom seemed strangely similar to the previous year. The only difference was that the Gryffindor table was entirely gone. And so, the room was divided into the Slytherin side, which Rem was still curious how exactly she was sorted so easily into, and the Ravenclaw side, along with the lone Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan. It all seemed to work pretty well, with the class split as evenly down the middle as it was ever going to get.

Remington managed to keep her mouth shut for the remainder of the class, until Draco spoke up from beside her.

“Looks like we have Muggle Studies next,” He commented dryly, “Joy.”

“I didn’t even _take_ an O.W.L. for that.” Rem muttered to herself.

“It’s compulsory.” Draco reminded her.

“You can guess why.” Pansy added darkly, leaning forward to flash Remington a tiny smirk.

Rem set her jaw, barely flicking a glance at the girl as the bell rang to dismiss them. “This is going to be _unbelievably_ fun.”

Not having the slightest clue where the Muggle Studies classroom was, Remington merely followed Draco and Blaise’s lead up the staircases. She tried not to imagine what Alecto Carrow might have in mind to teach them, though she was fairly certain anyone could guess. She wasn’t sure how she would hold her tongue if it was as bad as she feared.

Draco slowed before they got to the classroom. She ground to a halt and looked back at him as Blaise walked past with a roll of his eyes. “I know _exactly_ what you’re going to want to say when we get in there.” He said lowly. “And I’m telling you now _not to say it_.”

Her eyes flicked between his own icy blue ones, “You should know me well enough, that I hardly ever listen to the voice of reason.”

“I don’t want you getting yourself in trouble with _them_.” He pressed.

“I’m not going to make any promises, Draco.” She insisted, narrowing her gaze.

Frustrated, he turned away from her and headed into the classroom.

Once the class began, she found herself located in the notably _Slytherin_ part of the room, placed once again between Blaise and Draco. Her attention focused on the woman at the front of the room. Alecto’s dark eyes took in the students, looking far too eager to brainwash the lot of them, an insincere and unpleasant smile on her face.

Rem’s mind snapped out of all of her loathful thoughts when a Ravenclaw in the row ahead of them turned to comment, “This is going to be a long year.”

Blaise made a sound of agreement.

“As you are all aware, Muggle Studies has become a required part of the curriculum this year. Our Headmaster believes it necessary to enlighten you all to the sad truths of Muggles.” Alecto began. “Fact being that some of you have been drastically mislead.”

Remington’s hand curled into a fist against her leg. It would be a long year, indeed.


	12. Background Insecurities

“Don’t you have a patrol tonight?” She asked, leaning against the corner post at the end of his bed, as if she were afraid to move any closer.

“Yes.” He answered, flipping the page in some text book or another, sitting back against the headboard. His eyes flicked up at her. “Are you going to stand there all night?”

“Maybe.” She replied haughtily.

 “You’ve been in my dorm before, Rem.” He reminded her, as if she needed reminding at all.

“Really? I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He paused and cut her a look, but didn’t seem to think her sarcasm was worth a response.

“The castle was deserted last time.” She offered for her excuse. Then something occurred to her. “How do you plan on getting me out of here?” When they’d come, it was during a break that only a select group of seventh years were given. The common room had been empty.

“The same way we came, I assumed.” He offered.

“There are people in the common room.” She argued.

“I could always just keep you here.” He suggested, flashing her a look that spelled trouble. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“You are horrible, you know that?” She prompted. “I really don’t think you were this bad before summer.”

“I was slightly preoccupied before summer.” He commented quietly. She pursed her lips and said nothing, watching him nearly glare down at the book he had. “I’d forgotten how bloody _irritating_ homework is.” He muttered.

“Just think,” She said, almost sing-song, “I’m not helping you this year.”

“You don’t need to rub it in, Alvers.” He shot at her. She merely grinned.

Suddenly, the door to the dorm shut with a muted clamor. “Alvers, I have a million reasons for why you shouldn’t be in here.” A familiar voice remarked sharply, “Get _out_.”

She jerked her head up, her eyes snapping to Blaise’s figure as he walked towards his bed. “I’m not hurting any-”

“You are in the _boys’_ dorm of a House you _aren’t even in_.” He snapped. “ _Out_.”

“ _Someone_ is in a mood.” She muttered, pushing away from the bedpost. Blaise’s first patrol was later that night, she remembered. Clearly he was still bitter about the whole situation.

“And who the hell put you in charge, Zabini?” Draco returned, clearly not impressed.

“I’ll make you a deal, Blaise.” Rem said, turning to face the boy, leaning her back against the post and crossing her arms. “I’ll leave, if you escort me through the scary Slytherins and out of the common room.” She smiled at him innocently.

“You’re seventeen, Remington.” He told her.

“But I’m also a Gryffindor. They might gang up on me.” She argued.

He merely looked at her for a moment, as if she were being impeccably childish – which she was. Then he seized the bottom of his shirt and tugged it over his head.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, nevermind.” She said, “I’ll leave.” She headed towards the door.

“Good going, Zabini.” She heard Draco say as she pushed her way into the stairwell to the boys’ dorms.

“I accomplished my goal, didn’t I?” Blaise returned.

She lingered at the top landing a bit longer than she needed to. Her claims weren’t entirely unfounded. A lone Gryffindor walking through the Slytherin common room was an intimidating situation. When she was two steps down, the door to the seventh years’ dormitory swung open.

Draco stepped out and started down the stairs ahead of her. “Blaise has clearly forgotten his pure-blood manners.” He remarked. She followed him out into the common room. At first it seemed as though they might get by unnoticed, but then Rem caught sight of a cluster of girls who couldn’t be past their third year, huddled close with their eyes on the pair, whispering amongst themselves, then Remington saw Pansy, whose narrow gaze rested sullenly on her, but as soon as her eyes met Rem’s, the Slytherin’s expression morphed into a furtive smirk. Even as other people’s attentions found her and Draco, the latter didn’t seem the least bit bothered, or even aware of it.

“How does that not get to you?” She asked as soon as the stone wall had slid shut behind them, leaving them in the dank darkness of the dungeons.

He cast her an almost-cryptic smile. “You get used to looks when you’re a Malfoy.” Her eyes sharpened slightly. “Infamy and repute run side-by-side in my family, as you know.” He started walking down the corridor.

She took her strides at his side. “But it’s different when-”

“You can’t still be bothered by what they think of you, Rem.” He said, as if she were behaving ridiculously. “You’re dating _me_ , for Merlin’s sake-”

 _Yes, and what does that say about_ me _?_ She thought to herself. “You don’t-”

“Don’t think I haven’t heard what they say about you.” He interrupted her. “ _Draco Malfoy’s slut_ ; better you be mine than someone else’s. Besides, what the hell do they know, anyway? You’ve been avoiding me since we came back to this place- hell, you were even keeping me at arm’s length when I visited this summer.”

She was a bit taken aback by the subject change. “What are you _on_ about?”

“What are you, Alvers? Afraid of me?” He said, shooting her a look from the corner of his eye that was equal parts frustrated and amused. “You don’t want to get caught alone with me.”

“Excuse me?” She prompted, “Was I not just in your dorm-”

“And you were sure to keep almost two full yards between us.” He added, “You know _exactly_ what I’m on about.” She kept her mouth shut and scowled at the stone floors as they walked. She knew they were heading towards Gryffindor Tower. “I’m not usually a very patient person, Alvers.”

“As if I didn’t know that well enough already.” She commented dryly.

“Good, then we’ve come to an understanding.”

“You are so incredibly full of yourself, it blows my mind.” She told him with a roll of her eyes.

“And yet, you love me.” His lips were at her ear as he said it.

“Don’t get too friendly, Malfoy. Your patrol starts in half an hour.”

“A lot could happen in a half hour.”

She shook her head lightly, but didn’t say anything else as they ascended another flight of stairs. “Are you taking the upper floors?”

“If you’d like me to.” He remarked, not entirely having lost the suggestive tone in his voice.

“With any luck, I won’t have any nightmares, and no need to see you.” She told him.

“Fair enough.”

“Not _you_ again.” The Fat Lady quipped as they approached the landing before her portrait. Even though they were already halfway through the first week back, the lady in pink hadn’t seen Draco since the year previous. She was now looking disdainfully down her nose at him. Draco merely smirked the slightest bit and pressed his lips against the corner of Rem’s before turning to head back the way they’d come.

“Goodnight, jackass.” She called after him.

“I feel the affection.” He returned.


	13. Rebel Revival

Remington had barely kicked off her shoes and climbed onto her bed when Fay called her name from the bunk across from her own. She looked up at the girl, who was sitting cross-legged on her covers, flipping something over in her fingers.

“I didn’t know if you’d still… care, but…” She tossed it over to Rem, who clumsily caught it and looked down at the object.

It was one of the old D.A. galleons, the next Wednesday’s date printed along the bottom. “You’re kidding me.” She muttered. _Who… ?_ “Neville.”

“And Ginny, I think.” Lavender added from her own bunk. Rem looked up to see that both her and Parvati had their eyes on her as well. “Luna, maybe, too.”

“If you rat us out, I’ll hunt you down.” Fay told her, her expression hard. It wasn’t a look she’d seen on her friend before.

“Why would I rat you out?” She asked incredulously, a part affronted. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.” She mumbled, flipping the coin back to Fay. She knew exactly what argument would start.

 “I apologize for everyone when I say it’s hard to know where your loyalties lie when you’re with Malfoy, _of all people_.” Fay pressed.

“I get it.” Rem said, her tone fairly bitter. “Thanks for letting me know, though.”

**=+=+=+=**

Rem ran up the staircases, careful not to slip on the smoother sections of stone as she went. She wasn’t sure if the treads of her sneakers would get any traction if she wasn’t cautious. When she finally reached the seventh floor, she was breathing hard, having rushed up all the way from the library. She slowed to a walk and tried to catch her breath so she wouldn’t catch any more unwanted attention when she walked through the door. Once the Room of Requirement materialized, she slipped in through one of the doors as quietly as she could.

“… need to be prepared for anything-” Ginny’s voice reached her. Of course, everyone was already there. Neville and Ginny were at the head of the group, with Luna at the very front, as well. Those of which who showed up consisted of about half of the original D.A. Remington had a feeling that the rest of them simply hadn’t thought to look at their galleons.

The red-headed girl looked over the group’s heads to watch Rem move forward from the door. Remington couldn’t distinguish the expression she wore.

“So, we’ve decided that it was time to get Dumbledore’s Army back together so we can learn how to defend ourselves-” Neville continued, “And maybe give Snape and the Carrows a little justice while we’re at it.” Rem crossed her arms. “We’ll start practicing next week.” He said, “Today we’ll just discuss-”

“Where is Harry?” One of the Hufflepuffs Rem didn’t recognize piped up.

“We don’t know where Harry is.” Ginny answered, her tone hard.

“What happened to the Muggle borns?” Another underclassman asked.

“They were probably taken to trial.” Rem commented as Neville opened his mouth. The majority of the group turned to look back at her. “I’m sure Neville reminded you that the Ministry has gone to the Death Eaters, I shouldn’t have to tell you again. Hogwarts is also an extension of You-Know-Who’s control. Anyone who can’t prove they’ve got at least one magical parent was taken into custody to be tried and – most likely – convicted.”

“But- will they come back?” The girl inquired meekly. Remington let her eyes rest on the girl, but said nothing. She was probably no older than a fourth year.

“That’s why we’re getting the D.A. going again. So that we might be able to stop more of this from happening.” Ginny remarked, bringing the attention back to the front.

It seemed that Neville had made his way through the small crowd, since he was stepping up in front of her after a moment.

“What are you doing here, Alvers?” He asked.

“My name’s on that sheet, in case you’ve forgotten.” She quipped.

“I didn’t expect you’d come.” He admitted.

“Clearly,” She commented. “Nobody really did.”

“Well, you’re with _Malfoy_ , of all people-”

“Yes, I’m with Malfoy. As if I’m not reminded every time I’m in Gryffindor company.”

“I’m only saying- Well, he’s a _Death Eater_ -”

“Yes. He’s a Death Eater.” There wasn’t really any point in her denying it. It had to be blatantly obvious.

Neville stared at her, like he was shocked that she admitted it. “He actually told you?”

She rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen the Mark, Neville. But yes, he told me. Believe it or not, Draco Malfoy trusts me.” She turned her focus from him when it appeared he didn’t have anything to say to that and scanned the students who did show up, “So you and Ginny are taking the wheel, then?”

“I guess. I mean, it’s mostly Ginny. People listen to her-” He said.

“I know.” Rem nodded.

“We added more jinxes to the parchment.” He remarked.

She smiled dryly at him. “Are you trying to scare me, Longbottom?”

“Trying to scare everybody, really.” He said quietly, “We’re all dead if anyone lets it slip.”

“True.” She agreed. “And you should probably tell them all that, too.” She tipped her chin at the others. “They should know what they’re risking. And what they’re facing, too. You _did_ tell them about the Ministry, didn’t you?”

He shifted a bit uncomfortably. “A little.”

“Good.” She said softly. “Ignorance may be bliss, but fear is so much safer.”

“Everybody’s going to figure out how bad things are eventually, anyway.” Neville said.

She nodded, looking back at him, “Good luck with-” She gestured weakly at the D.A. members as she turned back towards the door. “Just because it’s your night off, doesn’t mean it’s everybody’s.”


	14. Slytherins And Quidditch

She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders where she was sitting on the bed, tucking her chin into the heavy fabric. “There’s another D.A. meeting next Wednesday.” She murmured. She’d told him about the first one, as well. In fact, he was the reason she’d been late to it. Him and Blaise, anyway. She’d been with them in the library prior to the meeting. Blaise, of course, was still clueless about the D.A.

“I have patrols that day.” He remarked, still laying on his back, eyes closed.

“Take the upper floors, will you?” She asked. “Avoid the seventh floor.”

His eyes cracked open and he gave her a look. “What do I get in return?” She arched her eyebrows as she looked down at him. He shook his head lightly and closed his eyes again, “Only checking.”

“It’s almost nine, Draco. Don’t you think you should consider getting up?” She prompted.

“Actually, I’m mostly thinking about how my ring is the only thing you’re wearing right now.”

“Figures.” She mumbled, pursing her lips. “Even though _I’m_ the one who’s going to be up all night patrolling, _you’re_ the one refusing to get up.”

“I need to be well-rested to pick out the best team for Slytherin,” Was his excuse.

“I almost forgot about Quidditch.” She said, only just then remembering that such a thing could still exist when the world was in such a state. “You’re captain now, aren’t you?” He made no notion of hearing her. “Aren’t you special,” She remarked, “Head Boy, Quidditch captain, and prefect.”

“I don’t feel particularly _honored_ , if that’s what you mean.” He muttered.

She exhaled deeply, letting her eyes ruefully take in his face. “If all this other stuff wasn’t going on, it’d be different.”

He pushed himself up with his elbows, then slid back to lean against the headboard, running a hand through his hair. “If all this other stuff wasn’t going on, I probably wouldn’t be in bed with you right now.” He added.

She gave him a fathomless look and shook her head at him. “Probably not.”

“ _Speaking_ of Quidditch,” He said, “It sounds like Gryffindor’s out a team.”

“Well,” She began, “I suppose Ginny’s really the only one left.”

“She handed in the resignation papers a couple days ago.” He confirmed.

“Two years ago, you would have been thrilled.” She commented.

“Rem, I don’t give a damn about this school anymore.” He told her, “It doesn’t matter what happens here, everything’s happening out _there-_ ”

“Of course it matters what happens here.” She argued. “There’s a whole generation inside these walls.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Her shoulders had relaxed, the blankets no longer drawn up nearly to her ears. So when he reached out, it was no challenge for him to find the chain that hung around her neck and pull it free from beneath the covers. She watched him as he turned the ring over in his fingers. Then his hand seized the chain a bit tighter and he pulled her closer, pressing his lips against hers.

“I love you.” He murmured. Her eyes flicked open to examine his face. She could still count every instance he’d said those words on one hand, easy.

“I love you, too.” She responded before kissing him again.               

**=+=+=+=**

She kept her hands in her jeans pockets as they walked down to the pitch. When they’d met Blaise in the dungeons, he’d flashed her a furtive look, knowing any suggestion towards the fact Draco hadn’t shown up in the dorm the night before would get under her skin. He thought better of saying anything when Rem threatened to turn him into a capybara, though his eyes still held the same sly look.

“You still need two more Chasers.” She said, “And a Keeper, right?”

“Do you play, Alvers?” Blaise inquired.

She shrugged, then shook her head, “Never for a team. I’m not anywhere near _that_ good. I can fly alright, but my hand-eye coordination is pitiful.”

“I’m sure you can’t be much worse than some of the dunces that’ll try their luck today.” Blaise remarked.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Blaise.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying out. You know that. Besides, just because Gryffindor’s out this year doesn’t mean we’re for hire.”

“If anybody would want to, anyway.” Draco commented.

“How many years has Gryffindor held the cup, now?” She inquired rhetorically. “Every year I’ve been here, for sure.”

“Don’t be a twit, Remington.” Blaise said bitterly.

“As soon as you pull your head out of your ass, Zabini.” She returned.

“You know,” He began in retaliation, “Maybe I’ll decide not to go to Slughorn’s dinner and leave you to go by yourself.”

“Wait-” She had to force her feet to keep moving in order to not come to a stop in the middle of the path. “Is that still a _thing_?” She demanded in disbelief.

“Even in the middle of a war, Slughorn’s _‘rising stars’_ need to be recognized.” Draco remarked.

“Of course, you wouldn’t know yet, Alvers.” Blaise said, “Since you haven’t been in your dorm.” Clearly, Slughorn must have sent out letters early that morning, or late the previous night. No, she hadn’t been in her dorm. She let his comment slide, though she was also reminded that she had yet to face Fay, and had no idea what to expect after how the girl reacted the last time she failed to return to the dorms. “This next Friday, six.”

“Joy.” She muttered.

When they reached the pitch, Rem broke off from the other two to head into the bleachers. When she got up the steps, it became apparent that she wasn’t the only one there to watch tryouts. A few underclassmen littered the stands, and towards the middle she spotted a slim figure waving her over.

Despite how much she _didn’t_ want to sit by Pansy, she started towards her anyway, not entirely sure where else she’d sit, to begin with.

Pansy flashed Remington the smile she reserved only for her. Dangerous, scheming, and yet, strangely inviting. Theodore Nott was sitting beside her, though he was talking with another Slytherin girl on his other side. Davis was her last name, Rem knew, but couldn’t seem to come up with her first.

“Come to watch the show, Alvers?” Pansy asked. “I hate to say, they don’t look all that promising.” She commented as Remington took the seat next to her.

The other two looked over when Pansy spoke. Theodore nodded at her in greeting and the Davis girl smiled at her.

“I finally get to meet Draco’s girlfriend?” She began, leaning forward to look at Rem. She stuck out a hand. “Tracey Davis.”

Remington took her hand, “Rem Alvers.”

“Oh, I know.” Tracey said airily, still smiling. “I suppose you’re here because of Draco.”

“More or less.” She replied.

“Has Gryffindor had tryouts yet?” The girl inquired.

“Gryffindor’s out for the year, isn’t it?” Nott prompted.

“That’s what _I_ heard.” Pansy cut in, twirling a dark strand of hair.

“ _Real_ -ly?” Tracey drawled. “Then we’ve _definitely_ got this year in the bag.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Tracey’s always been _huge_ into Quidditch.” She said to Rem, “I mean, the boys are nice to look at, but otherwise it’s pretty redundant, if you ask me.” Nott looked very much like he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at that. Tracey just arched her brows at the black-haired girl in a very unamused manner before turning her eyes back on Remington.

“I would try out, but my mom keeps telling me it’s too _unladylike_. As if we’re still in the seventeenth century.” Tracey told her.

“If anybody can talk someone into silence, it’s clearly you two.” Nott remarked, shooting a pointed look at Rem before focusing on the field. Tracey’s attention seemed to be yanked right out of their conversation when she glanced out and saw that the hopefuls for the team were lining up.

“It’s a talent.” Pansy assured him.


	15. Higher Tolerances

Rem managed to be at the next D.A. meeting a few minutes early. Though, she started to regret it slightly when both Fay and Neville seemed to notice her presence immediately. Fay had been surprisingly mild about Remington’s disappearance the previous Friday night, but she hadn’t exactly been warm and cozy, either.

“Welcome back, Alvers.” Neville told her before moving on to talk with one of the other members.

His newfound confidence still took her a bit by surprise, but she figured that the war looming overhead was changing everybody. She could only be thankful that Neville seemed to have changed for the better, even in this small way.

Once everyone had shown up, Ginny told them all to pick partners and practice what they’d gone over the year before. For a moment, Remington thought she might end up watching rather than practicing, when someone nudged her arm.

She looked over to see Ginny herself. “Partners?”

“Sure,” Rem replied, hoping it appeared as though she were taking it all in stride.

Disarming Charms, Stunning Spells, and Impediment Jinxs flew all over the room, tossing wands all about in the successful cases, and causing people to dive out of the way in the case of those who were clearly out of practice.

Ginny obviously wasn’t interested in the orderly method of taking turns. Instead, Rem found herself having to block and advance, and block again to avoid getting hit. After a while, Ginny was smiling from her position across from Rem, who couldn’t fight back her own smile in response.

“Seems like your dueling hasn’t suffered much.” Ginny commented when she finally stopped sending curses.

“Jesus Christ, Ginny, neither has yours.” Remington returned. She’d actually gotten grazed on the arm by one of the red-haired girl’s jinxes.

Ginny pursed her lips. “Neville said Malfoy was on patrol tonight.”

That must have been why Fay was giving her that look earlier, as well. Rem nodded, eyes not leaving Ginny’s.

“Everyone got here without any trouble.” She continued. “If you had anything to do with it, thanks.”

Rem didn’t have anything to say to that, and so she merely watched Ginny turn and walk back to the stool that was placed towards the front of the room and call everyone’s attention so that Neville could inform them of the next meeting before letting everyone disperse.

**=+=+=+=**

“You’re almost as white as that shirt.” Fay commented from her bed as she watched Rem get ready for Slughorn’s dinner. She’d been behaving surprisingly cordially. She had a feeling that Fay had the same hunch Ginny had mentioned, that she may have influenced Draco to stay away from the Room of Requirement. Which, of course, she had.

“Thanks, Fay.” Rem mumbled as she slid her feet into a pair of plain black flats. She had a feeling Blaise would be disappointed if she wore her battered sneakers. He’d told her to wear a dress, but she’d ignored his request. Instead, she settled for the school’s uniform white button-up shirt and a pair of jeans that still looked relatively nice and lacked any holes.

“That’s not a good thing.” Fay told her.

“Not a whole lot I can do about that right now.” Remington said, grabbing her wand off her own bed and sliding it into her back pocket. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

“You better.” Fay called after her as she stepped out of the dorm.

As she expected, Blaise was waiting at the steps to the dungeons, dressed as immaculately as usual. If Hogwarts were to award the title of Best Dressed House, it would without a doubt be Slytherin.

Blaise cast a mildly disapproving look over her as she walked down the stairs. She merely rolled her eyes. “I should have told Malfoy to tell you to wear a dress.”

“For your benefit?” She remarked, “I still wouldn’t.”

“Of course not.” He muttered, “You’re almost late.”

“But I’m not.” She responded with a cheeky smile.

“Save it, Alvers.” He told her as they started down the corridor.

It seemed as though they were a couple of the last to show up, only a pair of underclassman she didn’t recognize walked in after they had. Looking over the attendance as Rem went to an open seat, she noticed that Ginny wasn’t there. The fact didn’t surprise her all that much.

The dinner seemed very much like any of the others the year before. Slughorn introduced all of the students seated around the table, took turns doting on them one by one, though Remington noted that he merely asked how her and her mother were before moving right along to Blaise. She couldn’t say she was too heartbroken by his lack of interest in her.

“Do you have plans after this?” Blaise inquired quietly as the dinner was drawing to a close. Slughorn had started a second round of the table, speaking with his favorites.

“Should I?” She returned, casting him a look.

“If you wanted to come back to the Slytherin common room, I’m sure some of the seventh years are still awake.” He said.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed.” She remarked.

“In the _dorms_.” He finished for her, eyes narrowing.

“Fay was going to wait up for me.” Rem commented.

“So which will it be?” Blaise said, “The girl who’s already turned her back towards you how many times, or the Slytherins?”

“You are such a self-serving prat.” She told him. However, he clearly knew what her decision was going to be, because he didn’t take any offence from her comment.


	16. The Whole Lot

“Oh, you brought Alvers back!” Pansy called as Blaise led her into the common room.

It was mostly empty, with the exception of a group of seventh years who were circled around the only fireplace that was still burning. She could tell that nearly all the Slytherins from her year were there, including Draco.

As Blaise entered their midst, he pulled a bottle out of Pansy’s grasp and placed it on the mantle of the fireplace before turning to take a seat, Pansy protesting the whole way.

“You are the _last_ person who needs Firewhisky, Parkinson.” He snapped at her. She just pouted sulkily.

Remington made her way to the group with a bit less certainty. Draco watched her as she approached, from his spot in one of the armchairs. He moved his forearm from one of the armrests, and she took it as a sort of invitation, seating herself there.

“What brings you down here, Gryffindor?” Tracey asked, an amiable smile on her lips.

“Slughorn.” Blaise replied for her. “His damn dinner parties get duller and more annoying every time.”

“Glad I didn’t make the cut.” Nott commented.

“Only because of your father.” Pansy said.

“He’s not overly fond of Death Eaters.” Draco remarked. His simple statement seemed to hush up the majority of the group. She wasn’t sure if it was the content, or if it was the person speaking that had the greatest influence.

“It’s not as if the Slug Club makes any difference to begin with.” Rem said.

“Not anymore, anyway.” Pansy agreed. “He’s an old kook. Who he thinks is high and mighty hardly matters.”

“And considering the war,” Nott added darkly.

Pansy looked as though his comment made her suddenly remember something. “Whose side are you, Alvers?” She inquired, her dark eyes intent on Rem.

“Take your best guess, Parkinson.” She returned.

The girl’s lips curved into a smile. “I thought so.”

“Stop teasing her, Pansy.” Another girl said, “We talked about this.”

“Oh, you’re no fun, Daphne.” Pansy said with a sullen look.

“I’d say it’s past your bedtime, Parkinson.” Blaise cut in.

“I think I’m old enough to decide for myself-” Pansy began.

“Nott, can’t you take her to bed or something?” Blaise pressed on.

Pansy’s face flushed the slightest bit, but she didn’t look like she had any mind to object. Theodore, on the other hand, looked like he was caught somewhere between bristling and blushing. It was an interesting look on the boy’s face.

Tracey gave a snort of amusement.

“Zabini, what did Nott ever do to you to deserve that?” Draco said.

“How else do you propose we get rid of Pansy without an Impediment Jinx?” Blaise returned.

Pansy huffed, scandalized. “You won’t get rid of me that easy, Zabini.” She snapped.

“ _Clearly_.” He muttered.

“Well, even if Pansy’s not going to bed, I am.” Daphne remarked, getting to her feet from where she’d been perched on an end table. A couple people called their goodnights and she waved over her shoulder on her way to the girls’ dorms.

“Such a goody two-shoes.” Tracey commented, though strangely good-naturedly.

“Her sister’s the exciting one.” Pansy said mopily.

Tracey rolled her eyes.

For nearly an hour, they sat in that circle, talking about rumors of the Hogsmeade trips being canceled, the absolute cruelty with which McGonagall was assigning homework, and the outlook for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff’s Quidditch teams (brought up by Tracey), among other things. Rem only occasionally offered her input. As the hour hand of the clock hung above the fireplace ticked closer to two, the guilt of leaving Fay waiting started to sharpen.

Finally, everyone seemed to agree that it was getting late. When she got up and headed towards the tunnel out she could feel Draco following her.

“Fay’s waiting for me.” Rem told him as soon as the entrance to the common room slid shut.

“Alright.” He said, leaning a hand against the stone near her head, cornering her against the wall. “I was just going to ask what you thought of my House.”

“Surprisingly normal.” She said decisively. “If not slightly sharp-tongued.”

He smirked slightly. “That’s the easiest way to get the point across.”

“Apparently.”

He moved closer to catch her by the mouth. She managed to disengage before his hands could start to wander.

“I really need to go, Draco.” She insisted, palms flat against his stomach to ward him off.

“Let me walk you.”

“No.” She stated, “Get some sleep.”

His eyes rested on her face for a moment, as if gauging whether he should pick up the argument or leave it. He snuck a last kiss. “Goodnight, Alvers.”

She offered a slight smile, “You too, Malfoy.” She returned as she started down the corridor.

She could feel someone’s presence as soon as she set foot through the portrait into Gryffindor Tower.

“The dinner ended hours ago.” Fay commented flatly, standing up from where she had been sitting near the fire, arms crossed. Rem had a feeling Fay had moved down from the dorm to avoid waking the other two girls.

“I’m sorry, Fay.” She offered. “I got a little held up-”

“A little held up.” Fay repeated. “With Blaise? The Slytherins?”

“Fay-” Rem began warningly.

“Are they your new friends now?” Fay demanded. “Because you’re starting to act like one yourself.” She paused for a moment, but not long enough for Remington to intervene. “I’m trying to be your friend, Rem. Don’t you see that? Why do you need them if you have me, and Ginny, and Seamus, Neville-”

“They aren’t that bad, Fay.” Rem argued.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to just be friends with the people who believe in the same things you do?” She pressed. The tense muscles in her arms relaxed slightly when Rem didn’t say anything right away. “You _do_ believe the same things we do, right?” Her vulnerability shone through in that last question. There was hurt in her voice.

“I believe in the Order, and the D.A., and doing what’s right.” Remington said, “But you can’t just assume that none of the Slytherins believe in any of that. I know some of them have to oppose You-Know-Who.”

Fay pursed her lips, not meeting Rem’s eyes. “I’ll ask you once, because I want to know.” She began. “Where does Malfoy stand?”

Rem eyed her for a moment. “Draco stands wherever he feels the safest. He’s trying to save his skin, and his pride if he can manage it.” She said quietly, hoping no one would overhear. The last thing she wanted was for someone to get it to the Carrows that Draco didn’t support their cause. “He’ll fight for whoever’s winning. And he plans to drag me with him.”


	17. Rough Waters

“I need to speak with you, Alvers.” Alecto’s cutting voice reached Remington’s ear as she passed the woman’s desk. Draco hardly glanced back at her as he continued out the door, but Rem could see his hand clench into a fist at his side. She could already see two forms of chastisement awaiting her in the immediate future.

She could’ve seen it a while ago, though. When she started almost implicating defending Muggles or writing them off as harmless in her essays on the threats they posed, she should’ve known this was going to happen. If she were honest, she was surprised that it took nearly a month for Alecto to call her out.

She remained looking off towards the door until it closed behind the last exiting student, then she turned to face the Carrow twin. The woman looked as severe and unwelcoming as always, her reddish-hair pulled into a tight bun that might have reminded Rem of McGonagall if the two women weren’t so different in every other aspect, both physical and otherwise.

“After looking over several of your written assignments,” Alecto began, folding her hands together as she looked at Rem, “I can’t help but notice that you are completely failing to absorb any of my lessons.”

Remington clasped her fingers together in front of her. “I’m sure I’m absorbing their farce just fine.” She had a feeling Alecto wasn’t entirely aware of what _farce_ meant, other than that it didn’t mean anything good. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m only trying to complete the homework you assign as correctly as possible.”

“I see.” Alecto remarked, obviously fighting down her indignation with some difficulty. “I’ve heard nothing disapproving from the Headmaster. In fact, he talks quite highly of you, as much as Severus can, but everything I’ve seen of you suggests different.”

“I am sorry you see it that way, Miss Carrow.” Remington began to say, but abruptly silenced herself as Alecto jumped to her feet.

She pressed her hands flat against the desk and glared menacingly at Rem. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk out of this room right now and start finishing your work for this class the way _you’re supposed to_. You might have gotten Severus convinced you’re an angel, but he’s always been a little soft. And even if he might slip up, Alvers, I assure you that I won’t.”

Remington’s eyes merely sharpened at her words, her stare locked with the Death Eater’s. Without another word, she turned to leave. No matter how much she wanted to make one final remark, to have the last word, she knew how dangerous it would be to push her luck. She didn’t really want to end up getting hexed something horrible just because of her stubborn nature.

When she pushed through the door she found Draco waiting for her in the corridor, leaning against a wall. Once he saw her, he pushed away from the wall and started walking down the hall.

She exhaled irritably through her nose and nearly had to jog to catch up with him and his long legs. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted before she got out a single word.

“I thought I told you-” He began, his tone biting and indignant.

“And _I_ told _you-_ ” She cut across him.

“ _Remington_!” He hissed. She shut up immediately and set her jaw. “You don’t realize how _serious_ this is. You can’t just defy the Carrows simply because you feel like it- you’re going to end up in the hospital wing-”

“Now who doesn’t have any faith-”

“Don’t argue with me, Remington!” He snapped, voice low. “Not about this!”

She came to a sudden stop. “Then stop trying to appeal to my sense of responsibility! You’re not any better than me, so don’t act-”

“Would you _listen_ to yourself!” He turned back to face her.

“I can take care of myself perfectly fine! I don’t need you-”

Fed up, he promptly spun back and started walking down the corridor.

“You can’t just _walk away from me_ , Malfoy.” She shot after him.

“Sure as hell looks like I’m doing a pretty good job so far, doesn’t it?” He returned over his shoulder.

She had the sudden urge to stomp her foot, but resisted, knowing it would far from help her argument. Her hands fisted at her sides in vexation. She knew he expected her to continue after him, and she probably would have. Instead, though, she turned to walk back down the way she’d come. It was a longer route to the Great Hall, but it was worth it just to spite Draco.

When she reached the Great Hall, she found Blaise sitting at the Slytherin table, being mercilessly chatted to by Pansy. Seeing as Draco wasn’t around, Rem decided to spare him.

“Hey Blaise,” She said, dropping into the seat next to him, and across from Pansy, whose eyes flicked to her and lit up suddenly.

“So you aren’t _actually_ joined at the hip.” The dark-skinned boy commented dryly.

She merely scowled at him and picked a bun from one of the bowls on the table.

“Trouble in paradise, Rem?” Pansy inquired innocently.

“There’s no such thing as paradise, _Pansy_. I figured you were smart enough to know that.” The backhanded compliment nearly hurt to force past her lips.

But still, her response seemed to warrant Pansy with enough evidence to assume she was in rough waters with Draco. This, of course, obviously pleased her immensely.

Rem ignored the smirk on the girl’s lips and tore off a chunk of the bun before raising it to her mouth.

“He’s skipping lunch altogether, isn’t he?” Blaise remarked, shooting her a look from the corner of his eye.

Her gaze promptly snapped up to the clock at the back of the room. Sure enough, there was only a few minutes left before the bell would ring to send the student body off to their next classes. She hadn’t realized that her talk with Alecto and subsequent shouting match with Draco had taken so long. “God dammit.” She muttered under her breath and snatched up another bun as she went to get up.

Blaise shook his head slightly, “You’re far too concerned about him, Rem.” He commented in amusement.

“Draco’s never had much patience for the clingy type.” Pansy added, looking up at Remington with a glint.

Rem simply sneered at the girl before she started towards the doors. She hadn’t expected him to not show up to the Great Hall whatsoever, and she was still a bit touchy on the fact that he had skipped so many meals last year.

She didn’t really have a clue where she’d find him, but decided that heading towards their next class would be a good start. And indeed it was, seeing as she found him after going up only a couple flights of stairs.

“You are incorrigibly dense.” She informed him, tossing the bun his way.

He caught it flawlessly, glaring at her. “ _I_ am?” He prompted.

She shifted a bit uncomfortably. “Listen, I don’t like fighting with you. It gives Pansy too much satisfaction.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so goddamn _stubborn_ and _full of yourself_ , we wouldn’t fight.”

She smiled wryly, “I could say the same to you.”

He pointed at her, “I’m not joking about this, Rem.” He snapped.

“I’m not going to get myself killed, Draco.” She said exasperatedly, then dropped her volume, “But I’ll be damned if I let them come in here and walk over everybody without the slightest resistance.”

“Leave that to Longbottom,” He argued, “Or any of the other damned D.A.-”

“I _am_ a part of the D.A., in case you’ve forgotten-”

“But you’re _my_ girlfriend!” He objected. She fell silent, staring at him. “What’s it worth if you don’t listen to a single bloody thing I say?”

The bell rang as she opened her mouth to say something, so she closed it instead. She didn’t really know how to respond to that, anyway.

“I’m not arguing about this in the middle of the hallway anymore.” She said decisively, and turned back towards the stairs. _And I’m not going to go and sit through a class with you when we’re both angry - it will end even messier yet._

“We wouldn’t have to if-” He began, but she could hear him following her.

“We don’t have to to begin with.” She mumbled as students started filing past her up the staircase. She wound her way into the dungeons and let herself into the Slytherin common room without hesitation. She knew all the students had classes this hour, and though she was going to miss Charms, she figured that she could handle skipping a lesson in that particular class.

“Now, you can yell at me all-” She began as she turned around, but her impending speech came up short when she realized how close he was behind her, and his hands seized her face.

“I don’t want to yell at you, Remington, just be _smart_ about this, god dammit.”

She allowed herself a moment to take in his face; the serious set to his jaw, the anger that was still burning behind his eyes, the darkness from a lack of sleep that she’d grown so used to seeing. There was no trace of the boy she’d met two years prior. In the last year alone, it seemed that he’d grown far beyond his years. She could see the proof in his eyes and what he hid under the surface.

“I’m not making any promises, Draco.” She told him.

“Alvers, _you never do_.” He said, releasing her. “At least not when it’s good for you.”


	18. Silver Lining

The halls seemed darker than usual, thanks to the new moon. Normally, if she were out on patrols, her eyes would slowly adjust with the light as it grew darker outside, but after a night of practicing with the D.A., the blackness hit her a bit harder than usual. She could hear the underclassmen filing from the Room of Requirement down the corridor behind her, but her eyes were just starting to make out the faint figure of someone standing in a dark alcove between two of the window-like apertures.

She shook her head lightly. “You’re going to scare the younger kids.” She remarked.

“I thought I’d picked a good hiding spot.” Draco’s voice drifted from the shadows.

A few of the Gryffindors moved down the hall past Rem as she crossed her arms and came to a halt a couple yards from Draco. She could only just see the hazy outline of his face, the sharp, icy blue of his eyes.

“Not good enough, Malfoy.” She told him. The tail end of the Gryffindor D.A. who were walking past fell into a sudden silence at the name. Remington glanced over her shoulder at them to see them trying to remove themselves from the area as quickly as possible.

“Well, if they didn’t have any hint of an idea that I was playing turncoat, they do now.” He commented, giving her a look that was mildly begrudging.

“It’s not like they’d say anything.” She said, “They’d only be condemning themselves sevenfold.”

He said nothing more and she eyed him for a moment before breaking the silence again.

“We cast Patronuses tonight.” She remarked. “It’s a lot harder now, than it used to be.” It seemed that everyone else was struggling a bit harder to cast the spell than the first time. Umbridge’s reign was clearly not as traumatizing as what was happing now. Eventually, the majority managed to summon non-corporeal Patronuses. A handful of them took shape, fewer than the first time around. It was disconcerting.

She felt his eyes on her and glanced up at him. “You can cast a Patronus?” He asked.

She gave a nod, “Mine’s a bobcat.” She told him, her eyes still on him. “Have you ever tried?”

“Of course not.” He answered, “I’ve never needed to.”

Remington was reminded that the main purpose of the Patronus Charm was to fend off Dementors, which were allied with the Dark Lord, now. Realistically, they always had been. Of course Draco would have never had the need for a Patronus. “Come on.” She said, grabbing his wrist and turning back the way she’d come.

“Remington-” He began.

“I want to show you.”

The door formed itself in the wall, but as they approached it the doors swung open to admit Neville and Ginny. It seemed like they were talking of plans for something, but in tones too low for Rem to hear. They hushed quickly at the sight of Remington and Draco.

“Malfoy.” Ginny ground out.

Draco’s gaze settled on them almost impassively. “Best keep moving Weaselette,” He said, his eyes flicking to Neville, “Longbottom.”

“Draco…” Rem mumbled under her breath, moving towards the door as Neville and Ginny cast one last scathing look Draco’s way before heading down the hall.

She shook her head lightly when the doors closed with a definitive thud. “I suppose I need to commend you for not hexing either of them.”

It seemed to be a fact that nearly displeased him. “You’re a terrible influence, Alvers.” He remarked.

“Of all the people you hang around with; _me_?” She prompted, twisting her wand in her fingers. His eyes narrowed at her slightly, but she just smiled softly back at him, knowing perfectly well that it only irked him that much more. She held her wand out, “ _Expecto Patronum_.”

Silver light shot through the room, taking the shape of a knee-high wildcat. It seemed contented to stalk across the room and stretch languidly before seating itself a couple yards from either of them.

“That’s it, then? Your Patronus?” He inquired, his eyes not leaving the wisp-like creature.

“Not impressed?” She prompted, taking a couple steps closer to him. The bobcat’s razor-edged gaze followed her movement.

“On the contrary, Alvers.” Draco said, “That’s highly advanced magic.”

“You should try.” He merely glanced at her, unconvinced. “You just have to think of something that makes you happy.” She told him. “A really good memory works well.”

“What do you think of?” He inquired.

She clasped her wand in both hands and looked at him, “At first it was my father.” She replied.

“And now?” His eyes were sharp.

She averted her gaze to the Patronus, which was looking between them from behind apathetic lids, though the knifelike quality hadn’t left its gaze. “You already know the answer to that, Draco.”

“Only checking.” He remarked. When she heard the incantation leave his mouth, her eyes snapped up to follow the silvery flare. She couldn’t really make out what it was, and it vanished too fast to really tell, but she thought she might have seen feathers, for a moment.

“That was very good.” She said. He merely made a derisive sound. She looked back at him. “Really, you can’t imagine how much everyone was struggling to get even _that_. And they’d managed corporeal Patronuses before.”

“That’s their own dilemma.” He stated.

She pursed her lips. He’d always been touchy about anything when he wasn’t _the best_. She brushed it aside, glancing about the room in hopes of a clock. Her search came up empty, but she noticed that her Patronus had vanished in the meantime. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’d guess something along the lines of one o’clock.” Draco replied.

“Damn.” She mumbled. Two, three in the morning was normal for her to finally get to sleep anymore, and having to wake up at six, only a couple hours later, was hard, even if her body had grown used to it. Weekends were her only sanctuary. Before long, she’d look just as worn as she did the year before.

“You could stay here tonight.” Draco suggested.

“I don’t want to be _alone-_ ” She began.

“My shift ends at two, I’m sure they won’t miss me.”

She eyed him for a moment. “Then we’ll need to do something about the décor-”

The corner of his mouth quirked up a bit. “Close your eyes.”

“You are hopelessly dramatic.” She mumbled, though she obediently let her eyes shut. Then she was rudely shoved backwards, though the floor she’d been anticipating never came. Her eyes snapped open only a fraction of a second before she hit the mattress.

The room had transformed itself, even while they were inside, into a room not unlike the one she’d been used to. It seemed almost more like a study than a bedroom, but she preferred it that way nonetheless. She leaned back onto the covers and stretched her arms out.

Draco crossed his arms, looking down at her. “I’m not letting you into bed wearing that.”

She raised a foot towards him. “You can take my shoes off.” She offered.

He merely rolled his eyes and stepped around her, pulling his shirt over his head. She exhaled heavily and sat up to tug her sneakers off.


	19. Hiding In Plain Sight

_DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY; STILL RECRUITING_

The words glared at her as she took the final step off the staircase halfway to the Great Hall. The red paint had dripped down the wall, and in the dim light it looked almost bloody. Some of the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws also ground to a halt to gape at the writing.

Remington whipped around and headed back up the way she came. Once she made it through the Fat Lady’s portrait into the common room, she found Neville sitting right where she’d seen him last, in front of the fire.

“What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Longbottom?” She snapped, causing the other students who were leaving for breakfast to turn and watch

“Alvers, what are you talking about?” He returned, but the giveaway was when he bristled, getting to his feet to confront her.

“Don’t you dare play stupid. You’re much better at it when you don’t try.” She pointed a finger at him. Despite the fact that she was fairly sure she didn’t need to worry about what the Gryffindors heard, she knew she shouldn’t openly say anything about the DA, or the fact that she knew very well that Neville had stepped up to become leader in Harry’s absence, with Ginny and Luna at his side.

Neville opened his mouth, about to make an indignant argument, but she cut across him. “Be careful,” She hissed, spinning around and marching back out of Gryffindor Tower.

When she reached the writing, Filch had already converged and began scrubbing the wall. A small cluster of students still lingered about.

She continued down to the Great Hall, glancing at the Slytherin table as she walked in. When she noticed that Draco was the only Seventh Year missing, she veered over and sat in the spot beside Blaise, not bothering to sit facing the table.

“Where’s Draco?” She asked.

He barely flicked his eyes at her. “Got called in to speak with Amycus.”

“You can’t tell me they think he had something to do with-”

“Of course not,” He scoffed, “But he _was_ on patrol last night. Even if he was assigned for the lower floors.”

“Who had the upper floors? Wasn’t it Nott-” She said the name slowly, looking about the table and only then realizing that the other boy wasn’t there, either. “May he have mercy…” She muttered.

“Not that they’ll believe he was involved, either.” Blaise informed her, inadvertently reminding her that Theodore had family in the Dark Lord’s ranks as well. “But they may see it as him not having stopped it from happening.”

“Have you seen it?” She asked.

He shook his head, “Give me a good reason why I should go up five floors to look at a wall.”

She shrugged, “So how long do you s’pose-”

“I don’t think that’s where you belong, Alvers.” The voice answered her unfinished question, and she looked up to see Draco standing in front of her, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked.

“You think you know somewhere better for me to be?” She returned, but got to her feet, snatching a pastry on the way.

“I could name a few places.” He remarked under his breath when she turned back to him.

“Behave.” She told him chastisingly, resting her hands on her hips, “Did Carrow Numero Uno have anything of importance to say?”

“Of course not,” He answered, eyes sharpening slightly on her, “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with-”

“Trust me.” She said, her own expression darkening at the thought that he believed she might do something so drastic without informing him. But then again, if she _would_ do something drastic, she _wouldn’t_ tell him.

“Absolutely.” He murmured, though she could sense a hint of derision below the word.

“Remington?”

She turned towards the sound to see a girl who appeared to be a fourth year, or something similar. “Yes?”

“The headmaster wants to speak with you.” The girl managed, not waiting for a response before quickly retreating to the Hufflepuff table.

“Oh, joy-” Rem’s eyes moved towards the front of the Hall, but Snape wasn’t seated at the teacher’s table.

“I’m heading to the pitch, anyway. Blaise needs to get going, too.” Draco remarked. Blaise rolled his eyes and looked slightly sulky.

She looked at him for a moment, “That’s right.” She said as it came to her, “Your first match is today, isn’t it?”

He cast a crooked half-smirk her way and flicked his eyes towards where the fourth year girl had run off to. “Hufflepuff. I’ll see you after, Alvers.”

“I- yeah.” She said, “See you.”

She slowly maneuvered her way to the upper floors, all the way to the headmaster’s tower. She exhaled heavily when she reached the gargoyle that guarded the staircase.

“Dumbledore.” She told the statue, and it obediently moved out of her way, revealing the steps to Snape’s office. She couldn’t fathom why her godfather had decided on the name of the man he murdered to serve as the password to his office. For once, Remington wasn’t keen on asking. Frankly, she was afraid of what his answer would be, or his reaction, even.

“It would seem that your _friends_ have grown remarkably, abominably brave in the past few hours.” His drawl reached her before she’d even stepped off the top stair.

“I haven’t got anything to do with it, if that’s why you called me-” She began.

“I’m aware that you have some slightly greater amount of sense than to be flaunting the resistance under the Carrows’ noses.” He continued, pausing only for a moment before adding, “My Deputy Heads are out for blood.”

“And they can’t guess who’s to blame?” She prompted disbelievingly.

“I am afraid they aren’t much brighter than the culprits.”

**=+=+=+=**

She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket against the chill. It was closing in on November, and the weather had started to deteriorate alarmingly. It seemed as though there had hardly been a handful of sunny days since the return to Hogwarts, and even prior they’d been a rarity. It stormed incessantly, and the air itself seemed murky. Fog, she’d realized a few weeks into school. It meant the Dementors were multiplying.

“Hufflepuff doesn’t have a chance.” Tracey said decidedly. “Honestly, that lot of Horklumps?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “More like _Flobberworms_ , utterly useless-”

“The last few years they’ve beaten Gryffindor.” Theodore remarked, not even bothering to look at the girls.

“We won’t go into that.” Daphne interjected quickly.

Tracey shook her head lightly and glanced at Rem. “Is Blaise any good? It’s his first game, isn’t it?”

“He’s been flying since before Hogwarts, I’m sure he’s fine.” Pansy remarked.

“He seemed plenty good at tryouts, didn’t he? Scored on Bainbridge twice.” Rem commented.

“That’s why you don’t put a girl as Keeper!” Pansy stated.

“I don’t like what you’re meaning.” Tracey said, eyes narrowing on the dark-haired girl, who ignored her completely.

“Well, Blaise does look quite nice in Quidditch robes, doesn’t he?” Pansy remarked lowly, eyes down on the field.

The players were filing out, canary yellow from one side of the pitch, and emerald from the other. Blaise’s dark complexion and Draco’s light hair were impossible to miss.

“Does your mind get anywhere past that?” Theodore inquired, looking totally unimpressed.

Pansy hummed for a moment, then responded with a definitive “nope,” popping the _p_.

“Then why don’t you go over there and sit with Daphne’s sister. I’m sure she’d love to hear you fawn over the boys.” Tracy told her.

“You’re brilliant, Davis.” Pansy said, promptly getting up and moving down to sit with a group of slightly younger girls, who welcomed Pansy with smiles and laughs.

“They _like_ her?” Remington asked before she could stop herself.

Daphne covered a laugh and Tracey shot her a wicked smile. “So they’d like her to think.”

“That’s Slytherin girls, for you.” Theodore remarked. “Well, most of them.” He amended when Tracey cut him a sharp look.

“We’re not all manipulative nags.” Daphne returned, giving Theodore a glance of her own.

“No, me and Daphne are alright, aren’t we Theodore?” Tracey pressed.

The dark-haired boy looked slightly cornered as his eyes flashed between the two girls. “Of course.”

“Very convincing, Nott.” Rem commented.

He glanced at her, “What do you want me to say?”

“That we’re lovely, gentle-hearted creatures.” Tracey said with a sarcastic grin, spinning back to watch the game as the whistle blew.

Theodore snorted contemptuously and Daphne laughed again. Remington almost believed Daphne would’ve easily blended in in Hufflepuff. Her Slytherin-esque traits were dilute, and she seemed unusually good-natured for her House.

“You know, Remington,” Daphne began after a pause, “We’re going to be in the common room later, with Blaise and Draco, too, probably. You could always come.” She offered.

Rem smiled at the blonde.

“As if Draco wouldn’t drag her in, anyway.” Theodore stated.

“I’m being polite, Theo.” Daphne snapped at him, scowling.

He merely rolled his eyes, “Well, unless Malfoy’s got some other plans for you.” He shot Rem a look from the corner of his eye. She hit him in the arm.


	20. Other Plans

Hufflepuff lost by a landslide. Not a very ethical landslide, but a landslide nonetheless. In all honesty, Draco could’ve let Summerby catch the snitch, and Slytherin still would’ve won.

This time, she didn’t hesitate to head towards the Slytherin locker rooms, passing a couple underclassmen and indignant Hufflepuff players on her way through the tunnel.

When she pushed the door open, she felt somewhat relieved to find the players sufficiently dressed.

She smiled at Draco when he glanced at her, shooting her a trademark half-smirk as he fastened the last couple buttons of his shirt.

The remaining younger teammates quickly took their leave after they noticed Remington.

“Why can’t an attractive girl come to congratulate _me_ after a game?” Blaise complained aloud.

Rem rolled her eyes. “For what it counts, you did very well, Blaise.”

“Don’t pity me.” The boy snapped, “You’re here for Malfoy.” She merely rolled her eyes as Blaise strode out the door, Crabbe and Goyle not far behind. She’d begun to notice that they trailed behind Blaise nearly half as much as they did Draco anymore. She assumed it was because Draco was failing to _lead_ them as of late. In fact, Draco had very little interest in much of what happened this year. And he no longer needed them for his task… Blaise, however, never hesitated to voice his annoyance over their puppy-dog-esque behavior.

“How bad would you say it is that I’m getting _used_ to Slytherin’s cheating?” She commented.

“What cheating?” Draco returned without missing a beat. But when she merely gave him a solid look, he amended with, “It’s our stratagem.”

“Sometimes, Malfoy,” She said, turning towards the door as he started her way. “I feel honestly concerned for your morals.”

“I’m positive you do.”

“I was invited to the Slytherin common room.” Rem remarked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“It’s a shame I wasn’t planning on showing up right away.”

She shot him a sidelong look. “What _did_ you have planned?”

“Just follow me, Alvers.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to get all cryptic on me?” She prompted as she faltered slightly in her step, leaving an opportunity for him to stride ahead of her.

“I want to talk with you, Remington,” He told her, “No need to turn interrogative.”

“Talk with me?” She repeated. At the first mention, she didn’t think much of the words, but then she realized that the comment was normally proceeded by something rather good, or particularly bad. Most usually the latter.

“And don’t quail, either.” He shot her a glance.

“Have you ever known me to back down, Malfoy?” She inquired.

“Not unless it involves a mattress and an absence of clothes.” He responded shortly.

“Christ, Draco.” She groaned, “Don’t even-”

“I was only stating the truth.” She glared at him the best she could as they ascended the stairs into the castle. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re quite… _zealous_ as soon as we’ve started, but-”

“ _Draco_.”

“You’re like a challenge, Alvers. With a _very_ alluring prize.”

“ _Draco_.” She repeated, more severely than before.

“But I digress.” He murmured. They’d crossed the Entrance Hall and walked down the stairs to the dungeons, and despite the silence of the corridor, Remington knew that the Slytherin common room, just down the hall and to the right, would be writhing with noise and activity after the win. However, Draco started walking down the hall, headed away from the hidden passage and pushed open the door to the first disused classroom they reached.

“So-” She began as she stepped into the room, turning to look at him as she got a couple strides into the room. She found herself temporarily blinded as he let the door close, though. His hands found her hips and steered her the last foot or so before she was pinned between him and the desk at the front of the room. Her fingers curled around his arms as he leaned his forehead against hers. “You _really_ like having me cornered, don’t you?”

“I won’t deny,” He mumbled.

“What did you want to-”

“Later.” He said before his mouth caught hers. Her arm hooked around his neck, and she allowed him to kiss her for a moment, then pulled back.

“It’s later.” She pointed out.

He made a soft sound and advanced, but she leaned away just enough that his lips didn’t quite reach hers. “Sometimes I _loathe_ you, Alvers.”

“It’s mutual, believe me.” She replied, “Now what do you want to talk about?”

He was quiet for a moment, his hands moving to press flat against the desktop behind her. “What are you going to do after this?” He asked. “There won’t be any coming back after this year. You’ve given up on being an Auror. What now?”

She set her jaw and shrugged. “Pick up a small job, maybe? Or wait a while. My mother has enough money to support the both of us for quite a while.” Rem leaned back on her hands. “I just don’t really feel like things are going to go that easy. I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen.”

“You mean the war.”

“Yes.” She said quietly. “It has to come to a head sometime. And it’s way overdue.”

“What about after the war?” She could feel his eyes on her, even if she couldn’t see it.

“There might not be anything after the war.” Her voice was even lower now. “And there’s almost no way it will end well for either of us.” He was silent, waiting for her to explain. “If You-Know-Who wins, it’s not much of a world to begin with, and I’ll- who knows if I’ll make it. If Harry comes back and pulls through… you’ll be prosecuted.”

“Not necessarily.” He argued softly.

She shook her head. “What are _your_ plans, Draco?”

“Hole up in the Manor and wait for things to settle.” He answered so easily that she knew he wasn’t being serious.

“That sounds pretty bleak.” She commented.

“I haven’t decided the rest yet.”


	21. Few Of Hearts

Once they made their appearance in the common room, it seemed that the sixth and seventh years were the only ones left, for the most part. A few gutsy fifth years still lurked about, but Remington had a feeling that the underclassmen had been chased out to make room for the ‘real’ party. It was all quite a contrast to Gryffindor’s Quidditch-victory celebrations. It was also not nearly as exciting, either. Though it did have its entertainment value when Tracey _accidentally_ shoved a drunken Pansy over the back of the couch and silenced the dark-haired girl when she began to protest, and when Theodore had been discovered to have fallen asleep. Draco and Crabbe had dragged, almost literally _dragged_ the poor boy back to the room when he couldn’t be woken. He was certainly in for an unwelcome shock when he woke up in the morning and saw what had been drawn on his face.

No one else seemed to really care to stick around after someone had to be drug away. The girls trailed off to their dorm and Blaise shot Remington a mildly dubious look as she straightened up from the armchair she’d been sharing with Draco.

“What’s up, Blaise?” She asked, growing slightly uncomfortable under his stare, especially with his proximity.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, “I don’t know.” He said slowly. His eyes narrowed a bit and Rem’s gaze turned skeptical as she saw his hand reach towards her.

His fingertips barely brushed her cheek before he made a derisive sound and promptly turned around, walking towards the boys’ dorms. “I’m drunk.” He announced, as if she wasn’t already perfectly aware. She looked after him with no small amount of confusion, until she saw Draco leaning against the rail at the bottom of the steps.

“Sleep well, Zabini. You know you’ll be feeling it in the morning.” Draco commented once Blaise had reached him.

“Kiss my ass Malfoy, we both know who can handle Fire Whisky around here.” Blaise shot back as he started up the stairs.

Draco didn’t bother to respond, but crossed the common room instead, slipping his hands into his pockets and giving Remington a look. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She inquired.

“What Blaise said to you.”

“I don’t know.” She replied simply. “He’s drunk.” Though her response was an exact quote, she realized it might not seem as such.

He eyed her for a moment. “Obviously. He’s also disturbed as hell that he actually cares about another person.”

She shot him a glance of her own, entreating him to explain.

“Zabini’s never really gotten to know anybody, at least, no one that wasn’t some sort of threat to him. Until you.” Draco continued. “I’d say he’s having a tough time dealing with the heart he’s only just realized he had.”

“So you’re saying-”

“Don’t get too excited, Alvers. Right now I’d say he’s reached the point where he doesn’t want you to die, and he might argue your behalf if someone takes a shot at you.”

“How heartwarming.” She rolled her eyes.

“This is _Blaise_ we’re talking about.”

She exhaled heavily and got to her feet, “I suppose I should-”

“Come with me to the dorms.” He finished for her, an edge to his look that she knew all too well.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” She prompted.

“What do you mean by that, Alvers?” He asked, reaching out for her, catching ahold of her by the hip and pulling her closer. “If you’re doubting my ability to keep my hands to myself, your concerns are entirely-” He began, his lips at her ear.

“Well-founded?” She offered, twisting her fingers into the front of his shirt.

“Precisely.”

She merely hummed and spun out of his grasp, but she hardly got even a step away before he’d seized her wrist and pulled her back to him. “You’re not leaving.” He pressed, looking down on her.

She lifted her chin slightly to meet his eyes. “I thought I’d test your determination.”

“Did you learn anything you didn’t already know?” She pursed her lips as a response. He shook his head lightly and turned, heading for the dorms.

**=+=+=+=**

“Of course you brought Alvers back.” A voice broke through her subconscious, light streaming in from some unknown source as she pulled her head under the covers to escape it. It was only Blaise. She had no reason to acknowledge him when she was still half asleep.

“Zabini, don’t be such a goddamn git.” Draco returned, his voice rough from having been woken up.

“Tell me, are you both at least half-dressed under there?”

“Yes, Blaise.” Rem barked out from beneath the thick coverlet.

“Everyone’s going down for breakfast, I thought I’d inform you.” Blaise continued. “Well, everyone but Goyle. It appears he didn’t exactly make it back to the dorm last night and he’s not feeling ideal this morning.”

“Wonderful, Zabini. I really don’t give a shit.” Draco said irritably.

“When do you ever, Malfoy?”

“Good point.” Remington remarked, her voice still fairly muffled.

“No one asked you, Alvers.” Draco snapped.

“I don’t need to be asked.”

Blaise took on a mildly disgusted look, turning to head towards the door. “Lover’s spat. _Merlin_ , I’m leaving.”

“Good riddance.” Draco called after him as the door shut. Too apathetic to move enough to reach the curtains and pull them closed, he retreated beneath the covers as well.

“You all are so rude to each other.” Rem observed, eyeing him in the dull, almost nonexistent light.

“Alvers, we’re rude to _everyone_. And besides, what would you call yourself, then?” He shot back. His hand brushed the hem of her tank top farther up her waist.

“A goddamn angel.” She replied, promptly turning her back to him. “I’m going back to sleep.”

 


	22. The Curses

Remington stared at Amycus Carrow in disbelief. Up until that moment, she’d found the Carrow twin to be somewhat bearable, especially compared to his loathsome sister. The curriculum for the past few weeks had mostly focused on Dark creatures, more than anything else; Dementors and Inferi, things they’d gone over fleetingly with Snape the previous year. She’d even stuck through the bit on Werewolves without complaint.

_The Unforgivable Curses_

Those three words were scrawled across the blackboard in the Professor’s handwriting. Rem had a very sharp feeling that the class was going to go downhill, fast.

“We’ve well finished talking about beasts and monsters.” Amycus Carrow began. “It’s time we paid attention to what really matters.”

Remington shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes travelling towards Fay, who looked appalled, and Neville, who looked utterly vexed.

“What do you all know about the Unforgivable Curses?”

Before the whole sentence had left his mouth, Rem felt a strong pressure on her leg, near her knee. She cast a sidelong glance at Draco, who didn’t lessen his grip whatsoever.

“Who can name one?”

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and even the Ravenclaws remained uneasily silent, but a couple of the Slytherins raised their hands.

“Parkinson?” Amycus prompted.

“The Imperius Curse.” She responded in a smooth tone.

“Good, and what’s the purpose?”

“To take control of someone.”

Remington had daggers in her gaze as she glared at Pansy.

“Right, any of the others?” Amycus inquired, his eyes finding Draco. “Malfoy, perhaps? You know the other two pretty well, don’t you?” Rem’s eyes turned to him, along with the rest of the class. Draco looked back at the Professor, his expression betraying nothing. “What are they, now?”

“The Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse.” He replied tersely.

“Right, and what do they do?” It was clear that Amycus was taking some amusement from this.

“The Cruciatus Curse is a means of torture. The Killing Curse is self-explanatory.”

“Yes, it is.” Amycus conceded, beginning to speak of each curse in turn, though it sounded very much like he was advocating them, no matter how horrible the things he said were. Multiple times, Rem could see Parvati Patil saying things to Neville under her breath to keep him from speaking out. Until they reached the Cruciatus Curse.

“This one’s particularly good with interrogating. You can always get someone to tell you what you want to know. Not known for failing, that curse.” Amycus remarked.

“I can name a couple instances.” Neville quipped.

Parvati was looking at him in half-concealed horror. He was asking for punishment. Draco’s fingertips dug a bit harder into Rem’s leg.

“I’m sure you can, _Longbottom_.” Amycus returned, “Though I’m not sure who it _really_ was that failed, there.”

Neville almost looked as if he were about to stand up and draw his wand, but Rem snapped his name and he shot a look at her, anger in his whole demeanor. “Sit down.” She hissed, her voice razor-sharp.

Only when she turned to look forward again did she notice how much her leg hurt. She looked down and tried to brush Draco’s hand away, but he caught her wrist and held on until she flicked her eyes up at him again. He wasn’t scolding her yet, but warning her. She couldn’t really blame him; she knew she was moments away from doing something stupid and impulsive, not unlike Neville, and she was sure he knew it as well.

“What did he mean?” She demanded as soon as they were released and they’d gotten far enough away from the other students. “What did he mean about those curses?”

“Wasn’t it obvious? He talked about them the whole class.” Draco shot back.

“About _you_ and those curses, Draco.” She insisted sourly. He knew what she meant the first time, he was merely trying to avoid it.

“I was supposed to use the Killing Curse last year, wasn’t I?” He said in response, his voice short.

“But you didn’t.” She prompted, catching the very slightest shake of his head. “And the other?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He told her abruptly.

“Draco-”

“Listen, I didn’t cast it, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“You mean…” She began, but never got to finish the thought.

“Stop, Remington. I told you; _I don’t want to talk about it_.” His tone was serious and probably would have been quite intimidating for anyone but her.

“Alright.” She said softly. “We won’t talk about it.”

Somewhere along the line, she realized they had stopped walking and were standing in the middle of a now rather deserted corridor. After a moment of what looked like mild surprise that she wasn’t arguing any further, Draco brushed her elbow and continued down the hall.


	23. Jeopardy

Rem eyed the D.A. uneasily. The first three months of the year had been tense and anxiety-inducing, without a doubt. But now the truth was starting to show on the faces of Dumbledore’s Army. The was fear, apathy, and worse- there were the bruises and the cuts and scrapes. Anyone who dared defy the Death Eaters now roaming the school were punished directly and immediately.

As of yet, the painted propaganda on the walls were the most daring anyone of the D.A. had attempted, and no one had ended up hurt afterwards, mostly because they couldn’t be proved guilty. But it seemed that the Dark Lord’s lot was finally getting fed up with the insubordination. Any remarks against the Carrows or any other of You-Know-Who’s followers, hushed or otherwise, was swiftly dealt with. Normally, it was just a small bruise or cut. In the worst cases, there were black eyes.

Remington looked ruefully on Seamus, whose left eye was ringed in dark purple, with a scabbed scrape on the top of his cheekbone. Ginny Weasley had a small mark above her right eyebrow, and Rem had already seen Neville with a bloody nose earlier that week.

But those were all to be expected. It was the underclassmen – the third years with the scraped jaws and the fifth years with bruises on their arms – that disconcerted her the most.

_“They don’t care how old these kids are, Rem. They’re going to beat them down until they’re quiet.” Draco had told her as she watched them go into the Room of Requirement. “There is no denying that.”_

He was right, of course.

“We need to talk about something.” Neville called the room to order.

It was so strange to see the authority he had over the D.A. She almost had a hard time remembering the nervous, shy boy she met two years prior. The war had hardened everyone, and it seemed it had thickened Neville’s skin the most of anyone she’d seen. Now, he could silence the entire D.A. with a few words. He was their leader now, with Ginny at his side.

“The Carrows have obviously gotten less lenient with us.” His eyes crossed the room. “What I’m trying to say is that I can’t encourage you guys to act out.”

“I know that’s not how it was earlier this year.” Ginny interceded, “But it’s getting too dangerous. Pretty soon, someone is really going to get hurt.”

“That’s the _last_ thing we want.” Neville finished for her. “You all make your own decisions, but don’t feel like you need to get yourselves in trouble for the D.A.”

“But we never laid low during fourth year, when Umbridge was here.” A Ravenclaw a year below Rem protested.

“Umbridge was something _entirely_ different.” Ginny said. “Umbridge wasn’t about to _Aveda Kedavra_ anyone.”

An underclassman raised his hand. Rem couldn’t see his face, but his knuckles were black and blue. “Nigel?” Neville said.

“Do you know anything about what Harry’s doing?”

Neville hesitated. “Nobody knows anything.” Ginny answered for him. “Harry would be in danger if anyone knew where he was.”

When the meeting was called to a close, Remington noticed a few of the original D.A. approaching Neville and Ginny as the others filed out. Rem lingered slightly, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Stop lurking, Alvers, and get over here.” Seamus remarked when the last few younger students were at the door. Luna, Seamus, Fay, and Neville and Ginny were the only ones left.

“Please tell me there isn’t some scheme going on that I don’t know about.” Rem commented.

“Not yet.” Luna replied gently.

“What really ended the rebellion, might I ask?” She questioned.

“Michael Corner.” Ginny responded, “He was trying to get a first year out of detention, Amycus Carrow caught him and tortured him.”

“They started chaining people up for breaking rules.” Seamus added.

“I hate to think what he meant by us _practicing_ curses,” Fay spoke up, “Yesterday during Dark Arts.”

“On each other.” Ginny suggested darkly. Neville’s jaw was set. The fiery-haired girl looked around at each face. “We know that Gryffindor’s sword is in Snape’s office.”

“Don’t tell me-” Fay began.

“We need to get that sword. It belongs to Harry.” Ginny continued. “We need to be able to get into the headmaster’s office.” Remington couldn’t help but notice the way Ginny’s eyes flicked at her.

“We need the password.” Neville elaborated.

Somehow, they knew that Rem knew that very password. She realized she knew how to get in to a fair amount of places she shouldn’t. “No.” She told them, even though none of them were looking at her.

“We thought you’d know.” Luna said, completely unabashed. She was the only one who left her eyes on Rem.

“I’m _not_ giving you the password.” She reiterated. “Snape would _know_.”

“We’re doing what’s _right_ , Rem.” Neville pressed. _Now_ they were all looking at her.

“There’s always a little bit of wrong in the right thing. I can’t just _give_ you the password to the headmaster’s office.” Remington protested.

 “He’s a _Death Eater_.” Ginny said, as if it justified everything.

“He’s my _godfather_.” Remington retorted.

“Him being a Death Eater doesn’t mean anything to her, Ginny. Remember who she’s dating?” Seamus muttered. She glared at him venomously.

“Don’t fight.” Luna interrupted. “We’ve got enough enemies without turning on each other.”

“We can figure this out, even if Remington doesn’t want to help.” Neville remarked.

“Of course I want to help,” She objected, “But I’m not going to go back on my godfather’s trust, and I’m _not_ going to help you all get yourselves in trouble.”

“We’re in open rebellion, Rem.” Ginny said.

“I’d say we’re already in plenty of trouble.” Luna mused.


	24. Ten Minutes Of Hell

She hadn’t been expecting very severe punishment for the first time she really spoke up in Muggle Studies. They’d been sharing bits and pieces of their most recent assignments. A long report on the Salem Witch Trials that seemed almost more like History of Magic than Muggle Studies. When Alecto had asked her to read a couple lines from her own, Remington had made the mistake of choosing the paragraph that spoke of the Muggles who were tragically killed as collateral damage. Alecto was livid.

Rem was told to wait as the other students left the room, Draco giving her a scathing look as he passed.

“Malfoy,” Alecto stopped him. “Find my brother. Tell him I’d like him to come to the old classroom down the hall from his own in ten minutes.”

As soon as he’d gone, Alecto had led her from the room and up to the next floor. The woman opened a door near the end of the corridor and waited for Rem to walk in. It had clearly been out of use for some time, dust collected on the chairs and desks that were stacked and pushed against the wall. The grimy window let in just enough light to get a good look at the room.

“Alright Alvers.” Alecto’s voice cut through the silence. “It’s become obvious that a warning wasn’t good enough for you.”

The moment she turned to look at the woman, she was thrown backwards, landing on her back. She quickly pulled herself up to focus on Alecto. She didn’t want to seem too helplessly weak.

“Since you don’t seem to understand; there’s only one sort of leadership around here.” The woman said threateningly, her wand pointed at Remington.

“I follow the Headmaster’s orders,” Remington snapped, “ _Not yours_.” As Alecto’s wrist gave a sharp flick, Rem felt something knifelike and fiery across her cheek, like the slash of a blade. She winced as it throbbed and something warm trailed down her chin and onto her white shirt.

The door opened behind Alecto, admitting her brother, who looked down at Remington impassively.

“Do we tell Severus?” Alecto inquired.

“He’d likely be more angry with us than her.” Amycus reasoned.

“What would _he_ have us do with the way she’s been behaving?” The woman sneered. “If we don’t _break_ her it’ll only get worse.”

“I _am_ right here, you know.” Her cheek seared in protest, and as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she’d made another bad decision.

 Both of the twins turned their eyes on her. “You’re quite the spitfire.” Alecto said jeeringly, “We’ll fix that _real_ quick... _Crucio_.”

Pain ripped through Remington’s body and she fell back onto the ground, curling up. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands, leaving crescent-shaped cuts in their wake as the curse lifted.

It took her a couple moments to realize the scream that was echoing through the room was her own. She didn’t move, her uninjured cheek pressed against the cool stone floor, breathing heavily, the faint stirrings of agony yet leaving her muscles and bones.

She heard footsteps leave the room, the door slamming shut behind them.

For a moment she laid there, waiting for the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse to fade. But suddenly someone was kneeling in her field of vision, and she was being pulled up into a sitting position, but she wrestled out of their grip and pushed herself away, only managing to land on her back again, which already burned in protest. She propped herself onto her elbows to see Draco looking at her, a withering trace of hurt in his eyes.

“Remington-” He started to say.

“I’m fine.” She said a bit harshly, though she knew that the wetness on her face was from not only blood, but tears as well. The cut on her cheek stung angrily with every word she spoke.

“You were screaming-” He started to disagree.

“That tends to happen when people are placed under the Cruciatus Curse.” She shot at him bitterly. Draco scowled at her and reached for one of her arms. “I’m fine!” She protested insistently, but he didn’t listen, merely pulling her upright and holding her chin.

She didn’t fight against him, though flinching slightly as he wiped the blood from her cheek with the bottom of his sleeve. “You’ll have to see Madam Pomfrey.” He murmured.

“I don’t-” She started to argue.

“Shut up, Rem.” He ordered, turning her chin to look her in the eyes. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“What? Stand up for what’s right?” She began.

“I can’t watch that-”

“Then don’t.” Remington snapped, “Stay out of it.”

He glared at her for a moment, then stood up, pulling her with him. “Come on.” He started towards the door, his hand keeping a firm grip on her forearm.

“Let go of-” She hissed, yanking her arm from him.

He gave her a venomous look, “You have to have that cut-”

“Just leave me alone!” She yelled at him, feeling the blood trickling from the gash on her face. “Stop treating me like a child!”

She wasn’t sure where exactly her anger was stemming from, or why she found it necessary to direct it at Draco. But then… He’d heard her screaming, hadn’t he? And he hadn’t done a thing about it. She knew that if he _had_ done something to stop it, she would’ve been far from happier. She wouldn’t allow him to put himself in harm’s way, but at the same time, if he hadn’t done a single thing in her defense while she was tortured, could he really care? Could you love someone, but do nothing to help them?

“Then stop behaving like one.” He shot back at her, impatience flaring in his voice.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself-” She said sharply.

“You don’t _have_ to-” He objected, eyes just as narrow as hers.

“You’re not going to help me.” She shot at him coldly, “You’re having a hard enough time keeping _yourself_ from falling apart, to worry about me.”

He didn’t say anything, merely staring at her. There was a cruel look in her eyes that he hadn’t seen before. Blood fell from her jaw onto her shirt, which was spotted heavily in red.

She took a breath, blinking and turning to look behind her, “I need my wand-” She said quietly.

“Here.” Draco mumbled and she turned back to see him holding it out for her. It must have fallen out of her pocket when Alecto hit her the first time.

She took her wand, eyeing him as she slipped it into her back pocket. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You did too.” He interrupted her. “Now will you come to the hospital wing with me?”


	25. Flesh Wound

She sat on the edge of the bed, only then looking down and noticing how much blood had gotten on her shirt.

“How did this happen?” Madam Pomfrey said in surprise as she bustled over to Rem, carrying a small blue bottle.

Remington looked up at her, “It was an accident.” She lied blankly.

The woman shook her head seizing Rem’s chin and turning her head to the side so she could get a head-on view of the gash on her cheek. “I’ve never had so many students claiming accidents since those- those-” Madam Pomfrey broke off with an indignant huff as she pressed a wet, warm cloth to the side of Rem’s face, washing away the blood that had dried, and that which was slowly oozing from the wound yet. Once she was done, she opened the small blue bottle to dab some of its contents to the cut, causing Remington to wince.

Though, after a couple moments, a look of befuddlement crossed Madam Pomfrey’s face. “Oh dear.”

“What?” Draco demanded, “What is it?”

“It seems that it’s not reacting to the magical treatment-” Pomfrey said, “I’m afraid we’ll have to let it heal the natural way... I’ll get some bandages.” She got up and left to fetch the bandages and Rem turned her head to look at Draco.

There was a twist of concern in his features. “It’ll probably scar.” Remington remarked. He turned his eyes away from her, onto the floor, but she didn’t look away from him.

After Madam Pomfrey had patched her back up the best she could, with butterfly bandages to keep the wound shut and a gauze pad to keep it covered, she let the two go. Rem wasted no time, ducking into the nearest bathroom she knew would be empty. Draco followed her silently, and she had a feeling that he was the only reason that the few underclassmen they passed hadn’t stopped to gawk as she walked by.

She pushed open the door to the lavatory, hearing Myrtle’s strangely quiet sobs stop abruptly at the sound of the door. She strode to one of the mirrors, noticing that the one to her right was still unrepaired from when she shattered it in its pane the year before.

“What are _you_ doing here?” The ghost of a girl asked bitterly, floating up from the toilet stalls.

“Same thing you are, Myrtle.” Rem replied, reluctantly focusing on her reflection. “Hiding.” At that point, Myrtle seemed to have noticed the bandaging on Remington’s face and sunk back into the stalls just enough that she could still peer over.

Remington ignored the red that stained the collar of her shirt and was smattered down the front of it and on her sleeves. She reached up and peeled the bandage from her cheek, tossing it into the trash nearby and leaning her hands on the edge of sink to get a good look at the wound. It was a clean slice just below and to the right of the outside corner of her eye, down to an inch or so to the right of the corner of her mouth. It was now a scab, narrow enough to not be entirely gruesome. It seemed whatever Madam Pomfrey tried to use worked, just not as well as it should have.

Her eyes moved from the reflection of her face to the image of Draco, standing a little ways behind her, arms crossed. The bottoms of the sleeves on his shirt were smudged dark red with her blood.

“It’s not awful.” She commented quietly, almost timidly.

“It’s not far from it.” He countered.

“Just a flesh wound-” She began.

“Don’t you go trying to make this seem any less serious, Remington.” He interrupted her sharply. At Draco’s venomous tone, the sound of Myrtle flushing herself down the toilet echoed in the room, though neither of them acknowledged the noise. “If Alecto was in any worse a mood than she already was, you wouldn’t _be here_ right now.”

“I’m not trying to get myself killed, if that’s what you’re-” She narrowed her eyes on him.

“No, what I’m getting at is that you’re going to _end up_ killed if you aren’t careful. Obviously, you couldn’t care less about caution-”

“I know I’m not exactly safe- _nobody is_.” She argued. “But I’m not going to just sit back-” She never did finish that sentence because Draco had apparently heard enough and turned to leave the room. “Do _not_ just walk away from me-” She pushed away from the sink and turned to face him, crossing her arms.

“I’m not really in the mood to listen to you talk _nonsense_.” He snapped when he turned back to look at her.

“Excuse me for not wanting to be an old woman, looking back and wishing that right now, I’d had more nerve.” She retorted.

“You’re never going to _be_ an old woman if you keep this up!” He shot at her. “You’re a goddamn Gryffindor, how much more nerve do you want?”

“So you’d rather I just give up, would you?” She responded, glaring venomously.

“Well I sure as hell don’t want you dead!”

“I’d rather be!” The words left her mouth before she could contemplate what he might take them as. He merely stared at her for a moment. “I’d rather be dead than have to accept that the good is gone.” She reiterated, her voice a little smoother-edged than before.

“Don’t- say that.” He said slowly.

“What good is it, Draco? What’s the point of a hopeless existence?” She demanded.

“Remington.” His eyes were sharp, but she could see something else beneath it.

“Well?” She pressed.

“It’s not hopeless. Not yet.” He told her.

“Draco, Harry’s been missing for _months_.” She said quietly. “And you know he’s the only one who’s going to _end_ this.”

“Can’t you just be satisfied with the fact you’re _alive_? That you have a shot at living once it’s over?” He demanded. “ _Dammit_ Remington, don’t be an _idiot_.”

She looked at him for a moment. “You _aren’t_ my mother. It’s not as if I listen to _her_ anyway.”

He glared down at her, his eyes dark. “You’re going to get us _both_ killed.” And with that, he turned and walked straight out of the bathroom.


	26. Headlights

Neville looked as though he wanted to say something, but thought better. Ginny, however, didn’t hold back.

“What _happened_ to you?” She said, staring at the right side of Remington’s face, the blood covering her shirt.

Rem scowled at her, not answering as she walked past.

“Alvers. She asked you a question.” Seamus called out from behind her. She noticed, with some annoyance, whenever she failed to respond, he was always the one to call her out on it.

Remington turned around to look at them. “And I’m at liberty to refuse to answer.”

“If it was Malfoy-” Ginny began.

“Draco would _never_ hurt me.” Rem snapped, glaring at the girl.

“He obviously didn’t stop _that_ from happening.” Seamus commented.

Remington sneered at him before heading to the girl’s dormitory.

“She’s nearly turned into a female Malfoy herself.” She heard Neville remark.

As soon as she reached the dorm, she pulled the buttons free on her shirt and slid it down her arms, discarding it onto her bed on her way to the bathroom. She hardly glanced at the mirrors once she got there, next tugging her tanktop off, ignoring the pain that melted her shoulders and her spine, and the sharp stabs in her ribs and arms. She wasn’t sure if it was all from being thrown back onto the floor, or merely the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse. She unhooked her bra and turned her back to a mirror, the bruises were already dark and menacing, lining her entire spine, from the points of her shoulder blades, to the bottom of her ribcage and the bones in her hips, where there was normally little more than a pair of dimples, and disappearing under the waistband of her jeans.

Once she’d washed the remaining blood from her skin and hair, found a few more bruises and scrapes, and let the hot water soften her muscles and dull some of the pain, she went back to the dorm to find Fay on her respective bed.

“So it is as bad as Seamus said.” The girl said softly.

Remington didn’t even spare her a look as she tossed her dirty clothes into her trunk and started dragging her comb through her hair.

“Rem,” The uncertainty in Fay’s tone told her that she was in a more patient mood than the others had been previously. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Alecto was upset with me.” She replied shortly.

“And she _dealt_ with you, I get that.” Fay said, “But you’re unusually pissy.”

Rem glanced up at the brunette and set down her brush. She took a deep breath and climbed onto her own bed. “Draco was upset that I keep putting myself in bad situations.”

“ _Upset_.” Fay repeated. “As in, he reprimanded you.”

“Like I was some sort of _child_. Like I can’t make my own decisions and take care of myself.” She fumed. “What right-”

“He’s been your boyfriend for a year now, Rem.” Fay reminded her. “And it’s kind of apparent that he’s… more than that.”

Remington gave her a look. “What do you mean?”

Fay merely eyed her for a moment, “Nevermind. But still, Rem, you’re blowing this way-”

But she never got a chance to finish the thought before there was a knock and the door opened, a third year stood in the doorway, clearly anxious. “The headmaster wants to see you, Remington.” She said, then added a bit more quietly, “He didn’t sound very happy.”

“When does he ever?” Fay mumbled.

Rem slid off her bed, snatching up a robe and pulling it on. It was beginning to get chilly throughout the castle. November was nearly over. If she’d been back at Nexxford, she’d be celebrating Thanksgiving that week. But she was not at Nexxford, that was plain to see as she walked down dim stone corridors rather than the whitewashed, tiled halls of her old school.

The few people she encountered on the way to the Headmaster’s tower kept their heads low and their eyes down, despite the fact they were older students. Hogwarts wasn’t Hogwarts anymore – not really.

She eyed the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the Headmaster’s office as she approached. “Dumbledore.” She said softly and they leapt aside, revealing the staircase behind them.

Snape sat at his desk with the ever-apathetic look on his face, though Remington thought for a moment that he looked older, somehow. But then, it could have been the lighting. It must have been one of the first times she’d come for a meeting with him where he wasn’t looking over papers or the like.

She sat in the chair positioned across the desk from him.

“Your mother will never forgive me.” Snape remarked. “You realize this.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Rem returned.

“But you _did_.” He insisted. She could see the fire behind his eyes. His tone remained flat, if not subtle like a sheathed knife, and his expression never wavered, but she could tell he was quite angry. “I am certainly not the first to tell you to keep your overlarge head down and your unrelenting mouth _shut_.” Remington said nothing. Of course he wasn’t the first, and he was surely not going to be the last. “It seems you might lack more sense than I gave you credit for.”

“I’m not going to apologize if I’m not sorry, and I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep. If that’s all-” She went to stand up, but Snape held up his palm.

“I entreat you to write your mother.” He told her.

“Alright.” She said, hands on the armrests of the chair, anxious to leave.

He picked something off the desk in front of him. “An unidentified owl delivered this earlier today. Due to the fact it lacks a determined source, it was withheld.” Snape held out a hand, a small bit of paper pinched between his index and center fingers. Rem leaned forward and reached out for the note.

She slowly unfolded the lined paper and took in the handwriting that she knew so well, the script that twisted her gut.

_It’s a hoax._

Snape watched as she blanched, frozen and staring at the paper.

“Thank you, for giving me this.” She said tersely, her voice low as she folded the note back up and stood.

“Remington,” He halted her before she could turn towards the door. “Need I tell you to give an explanation?”

She looked almost a bit like she was caught in the headlights. “To be honest, I’m not really sure myself.”


	27. Dementors

The grounds seemed hazier than usual. The fog the permeated the whole of the British Isles – more likely, the whole planet nearly – was accompanied by a light, somewhat damp snow. It was the time for both, of course, what with November drawing to a close and the fog, of course, due to the Dementors. It seemed that no one could escape the earthbound cloud cover.

None of the snow stuck. It melted as soon as it hit the ground, leaving everything shiny with the water that was left in its wake. Against the chill, Remington drew her cloak close. The moon was large in the sky; only days left before the new moon. It still made her uneasy. The light from her wand grew stronger with her discomfort, though it didn’t help her much what with the fog and snow.

She found Hagrid waiting for her at his cabin.

“There yeh are, Miss Alvers.” He said by way of greeting. She could see his eyes shift momentarily to the scab on the right side of her face.

“Please, Hagrid, you may as well call me Remington. I’m sure you’ll be seeing plenty of me.” Rem told him, which was incredibly true. She’d woken up the morning after her chat with Snape to find a note on her bed telling her that she would be serving detention with Hagrid until Christmas vacation, seven o’clock to ten o’clock each night she didn’t have patrols, four to seven each night she _did_ have patrols. She had a feeling that part of this arrangement wasn’t simply punishment, but also an attempt to keep her away from Draco. Not that she’d needed any help with that. She caught a couple looks from him throughout the day and knew that he wanted to speak with her, but had avoided any of his efforts. She’d wanted a few hours of not bringing up the incident of the previous day.

Hagrid nodded, “Bin seein’ jus’ about all o’ the D.A. plenty, it seems.”

“Well none of us are all too subtle.” She muttered.

“I trus’ you know the Patronus Charm.” Hagrid remarked, turning to start towards the Forbidden Forest.

“I do.” Rem responded, following him, her legs working to match his longer strides. “Are we dealing with Dementors?”

“I’ve seen a few lurkin’ about. Too close to the school for me taste.” He answered her.

“Sounds good to me.” Remington said, “I’ll deal with Dementors over the Carrows any day.” The Carrows didn’t frighten her so much as they should. What got her was the fact that she really couldn’t fight back. She could be as defiant as she wanted, but she couldn’t really _do_ anything.

“The Dementors yeh’re dealing with are wild as they come.” Hagrid warned her. “They’re not on our side anymore, if those thin’s ever were…”

“They’re with whoever’s the highest bidder. Right now, You-Know-Who is offering some brand of freedom. Along with the souls of all who resist him.” Rem commented quietly as they entered the trees in earnest.

She’d only been in the Forbidden Forest a couple times. Once, on the night of the Battle at the Department of Mysteries, and a couple times for Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class. Just like every other time, all types of light seemed to be snuffed out as soon as they got a couple yards into the wood. Her wand was the only source of sufficient light.

A few yards in, Remington caught the first signs of life. A small herd of thestrals stood in a loose clump, heads lowered but eyes sharp. Their ears pricked as Hagrid and Rem approached.

“They’re awful close to the edge of the forest.” She noted.

“Thestrals are peaceful creatures, ‘specially these ones. Tryin’ to avoid the things hidin’ deeper in the forest, I’d say.” Hagrid explained. The thestrals watched as they passed, wary and silent.

As they got further into the Forbidden Forest, Remington’s couldn’t decide whether the rustlings and distant ghostly sounds were signs of life or not. The feeling was one of constantly being watched. It was everything she had not to turn and look over her shoulder with every other step.

Something suddenly occurred to her. “Why isn’t Fang with us?”

“I ‘spect he wouldn’t be much good to us against Dementors, would he?”

“What about everything else?” She prompted. Something moved up ahead.

“Well, that neither-” But Hagrid never got to finish his response as two Dementors fell upon them. Only then did Remington realize she should have cast her patronus far before and kept it with them.

“ _Expecto Patronum_!”

**=+=+=+=**

She slipped her gloves from her hands as she walked from the Entrance Hall, shaking the hood of her cloak back. She headed towards the stairs, hoping to get some sleep before she had to endure another day of classes, followed by a second round of detention and patrols, since she was on duty the next day. Snape was going to exhaust her into obedience. Once she was halfway through her sentence, she would be too tired to fight back.

Something moved over her shoulder when she was only a step from the bottom stair. She whipped around, wand out.

Draco stood in her line of vision, eyeing her without any sign of fear at the fact that she was armed against him. She quickly lowered her hand, crossing her arms.

“Sorry, I just got back from the Forbidden Forest-”

“I know.” Draco interrupted her. She stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak again. “We need to talk, Rem.”

She didn’t disagree. “What do you have to say?” Not as a challenge, but as a statement. She could feel, more than see, the way his eyes traced the right side of her face. It was hard to come to terms with the fact that this was the way everyone was like to look at her from here on out. It wasn’t like some embarrassing pimple that would go away after a while. It would scar her permanently.

“This isn’t working.” And for the first time, she began to fear that she’d finally gone too far. The idea of not being with him never crossed her mind in the slightest. That idea wasn’t imaginable. And now she could see the conversation moving in a very frightening direction. “You’ve been avoiding me again.”

“I didn’t-” But she couldn’t make her words come together properly.

“Rem.” He prompted, giving her a very straight look.

“Draco.” She returned, however her voice sounded strained and weak compared to his severe tone.

He looked at her for a moment and neither of them spoke. “Come with me.” He said finally, moving past her up the stairs. “Why do you always lose all your fight when you get afraid of the consequences?”

“Isn’t that usually the case with everyone?” She inquired as she turned to follow. He didn’t bother to respond. She entreated her mind to give her something to say as they ascended a second set of stairs. “Listen, Draco-”

“Give me a good reason why I should listen to you if you won’t listen to me.”

“Be that as it may-” She began. “I’m fine, aren’t I? And you’re alright-”

“Remington.” He said, coming to a stop and facing her. He seized her chin, his thumb laying across the sore on her face. She jerked away, the half-healed wound burning from the contact. Her hand came up to cover the right side of her face. “You’re _not_ fine.” His tone wasn’t as venomous as she might have expected it to be.

“I _know_ it’s going to be a scar, Draco. I’m not ignorant.” She said, trying hard not to let her word come out too sharp. “I can live with that.”

“And are you to say that _I_ can?” He returned. “For the rest of our lives, I’ll remember this hell every time I look at you.”

“ _I can’t help that_.” She said, her eyes suddenly stinging like she’d neglected to blink for too long, her hand still resting over her cheek.

He shook his head slightly, “If you’d _listen_ to me-” He stepped closer to her, one hand brushing the uninjured side of her face. “Christmas holidays start in two weeks.” He stated. “I’d like for you to visit the Manor one day.” He pulled her hand away from her face, revealing the wound again. “You couldn’t block a curse from Professor Carrow fast enough.”

She looked up at him dubiously. “You want me to lie to your parents about my scar.”

“Yes.”

After a moment, she seemed to accept the notion. “Now, where were we going?”

“I can’t imagine you wouldn’t’ve guessed.” He remarked, turning around and moving for the stairs.

“So what?” She prompted, following after him. “If I didn’t start agreeing, was your plan to attempt to seduce me into it?”

“It was certainly an option.” She heard him respond.

“I see.” Rem muttered. He didn’t respond to the comment. “Isn’t it… Doesn’t it remind you of last year? Going up here?” She asked quietly.

“Not as much as you’d think.” He replied after a moment. “The fact that I don’t need to go into that godforsaken room ever again certainly brightens things up.”

When they reached the Room of Requirement, however, the doors failed to show themselves. The wall stayed resolutely blank no matter how many times it was called upon.

“Someone’s in there.” Draco remarked.

“Who else-” But Remington trailed off. She couldn’t estimate the number of people who knew of the room’s existence, and for all she knew, it could have been the D.A. The idea of them meeting without informing her didn’t come as much of a surprise.

“You should get back to patrol.” She said.

“I should.” He agreed airily. But he didn’t move away, instead coming close enough to press his lips against hers.

It had been several days since they’d kissed last, she noted with mild consternation. She’d almost forgotten how nice it was.

“And you should get some sleep.” He told her quietly before he did finally step away.


	28. Caught, Unawares

“I need to speak with you, Rem.” The voice caught her slightly off-guard as she made her way across the grounds to the greenhouses for Herbology. Her step faltered and she turned to see Neville not more than a couple yards off.

She’d hardly managed four hours of sleep, and could feel the heaviness in her eyes. She knew that she wouldn’t get any more sleep that night, either, considering the fact she had both detention and patrols. The thought struck her that if she were considered unruly enough for detention, that it hardly made any sense to have her out patrolling the halls to keep students safe. But then again, it made all the sense in the world. ‘Unruly’ in this case meaning that she had good intentions, which went entirely against the Carrows. They were the ones who determined who the rebels were.

“Neville.” Remington greeted, “I actually wanted to ask you something, as well.” She remarked softly as they started towards the greenhouses again.

“By all means.” He said.

“Was there a D.A. meeting last night?” She inquired, voice low.

“No,” He replied cautiously, “Why?”

“There was someone in the Room of Requirement.”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He began. “Seamus is staying there now. The Carrows used him for example again yesterday. He took a couple spooked underclassmen with him. They’ve been threatening to drag kids from their beds, scare them out of sleeping.”

Rem pursed her lips. “This is getting outrageous.” She muttered. “We have to do something, but there’s nothing we _can_ do.”

“Ginny still wants to get Gryffindor’s sword.” He commented, but continued before she could interject. “I know you hate that idea, but she’s kind of right. She knows it’s dangerous.”

“Neville.” She said warningly. “They will _not_ stand for that kind of insubordination. You realize what would happen to you-”

“We won’t get caught. Not if we do it right; if we have the password.” He argued under his breath. “You know we’ll try whether you help us or not.”

“When?” She asked, the greenhouses coming into sight.

“Tonight.”

She looked at him, once again alarmed and impressed with how much the boy had changed since she had first met him. Not only in attitude, but his eyes were as fierce as anyone’s she’d seen. There was determination in every inch of his face, and it seemed to belong there. His once over-large teeth now fit his face and his childish roundness was entirely unnoticeable. Neville looked more like an audacious and strong-willed young man than the boy he had been the year before.

“Dumbledore.” She said quietly, after a short internal struggle between the half of her brain that was cautious and worrisome, and the part that was reckless and impulsive. The later won with little room to spare.

“What?” He prompted, clearly perplexed.

She shook her head and slipped into the greenhouse.

**=+=+=+=**

She hardly bothered to stomp the mud from her sneakers as she stepped into the Great Hall. She’d hardly been able to relax all day, knowing that it was very likely that Neville, Ginny, and most likely Luna were all going to be caught and punished later that night. She had gone back and forth between telling herself she’d decided correctly, and regretting telling Neville the passwords to Snape’s office, whether or not he’d figured out that was what it was.

She’d spent the last three hours hunting down some fungus or another for Professor Sprout’s use. It grew within the Forbidden Forest, on the roots of a tree not even Hagrid couple pronounce the name to. Three times Remington had managed to step straight into a patch of mud, and nearly lost her left shoe one of those times.

She left a trail of half-dry muck behind her as she started up the stairs. She was assigned the upper floors, and planned to make certain that no one caught Ginny and company in the act. Snape would already be infuriated with her for sharing the password, so what did it matter if she were caught as well?

When she reached the second floor, something seized her by the wrist and pulled her into the alcove at the top of the stairs. She nearly made a sound of surprise, but there was a hand pressed over her mouth.

“My god, Alvers. For how edgy you’ve been, I’d expect you to be a bit more observant.” Draco’s voice greeted her before her eyes could adjust. “I said your name twice and you didn’t even register.”

“Jesus Christ, Draco. Don’t scare me like that.” She snapped under her breath.

“What’s got you so anxious?” He asked.

“I’m just tired.” She responded warily.

He had her pinned, she realized when her eyes finally grew accustomed to the dimness, with one hand on either of her sides, her back conveniently against the wall. The look he gave her was one of clear unbelief.

“I know you better than that, Remington.” He told her. “If it’s some scheme of your Gryffindor friends’-” Her eyes burned into him. “So it is. And let me guess,” He began irritably, the indignation that wasn’t in his tone yet was plain to see in his eyes. “You’re involved.”

“Leave it, Draco.” She said quietly, keeping her temper in check the best she could.

“Why don’t you tell me these things?” He demanded.

“Because you’ll get angry, and then you’ll tell Snape.” She answered.

“Of course I’ll get angry,” He replied, “You’re putting yourself in danger again. But what makes you think I’ll run to tell that two-faced-”

“Because of what’s on your arm.” She interjected, careful to keep her voice indifferent.

“You come before any of that, Rem. I’m not going to hand over the damn D.A. if you’re included in the deal.” He said severely.

She eyed him for a moment. “They’re breaking into Snape’s office for the sword of Gryffindor.” She told him softly.

“You gave them the password.” He concluded, his fire gone as fast as it had come. She made no attempt to refute or accept it. “Why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do.”

“They’re going to get caught, Rem. You _know_ that.” He pressed. “And you’ll be punished as well.”

She turned her eyes at the floor, her jaw set. “Was this why you were waiting for me?”

“No.” He said, tipping his head slightly to bring her gaze back up. “I’ve decided.”

She looked up at him inquisitorially. “Decided what?”

“Remember when we talked about what we’d do after Hogwarts?”

“Yes…” She answered slowly. “What? Have you decided that you want to teach Potions after Slughorn?”

“No, Alvers.” He told her. She could tell that his patience was exceptionally thin. “If we make it out of the war alive-”

“You will.” She told him without hesitation, as if it were simple common sense. She’d make sure it was.

“No. Remington.” He said, his eyes sharp on hers. “If we’re alive after the war is over, I’m asking you to marry me.”

Her lips parted and she stared at him. “Marry you?” She breathed. He met her gaze steadily. “You want me to- We’re seventeen!” She had to lower her voice halfway through when she realized that her volume had risen.

“Why should it matter?” He prompted.

“I’ve-” She paused. Why _should_ it matter? Plenty of people married young. Hell, her parents had married young. Her _grandparents_ had married at an age younger than her own, and their marriage was everything she could hope for for herself.

“You’re out of your wits.”


	29. Pain

Remington was slightly surprised that she hadn’t been called to Snape’s office first thing in the morning. She headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast, her sneakers still caked with dry mud from the night before. Of course, she shouldn’t have expected to get off easy.

The halls were somewhat busy, what with everyone travelling downstairs. She normally didn’t move with the crowd, but she decided to sleep in a little later than she usually did, being how heavy her feet felt from her lack of sleep.

She saw Draco making his way against the flow of people, some sort of frenetic emotion hidden beneath the surface of his face.

As his eyes met hers, though, something flashed in his expression. Before she even had a chance to process it, the spell hit her. She was vaulted onto the stone floor from the force of it, her body tensed and curled in on itself. The Cruciatus Curse worked its way into her muscles, blood, bones, and her mind.

When the pain lifted, she didn’t move, breathing heavily, absolutely exhausted. Her body _hurt_. The last shocks from the curse ran down her spine, causing her fingers to curl in, her nails cutting into her palm.

The corridor seemed to have cleared out, but really the students had either shoved their way to run for it, or pushed themselves against the walls so as to avoid Alecto Carrow’s wrath. There had been screams other than her own, Remington realized as the ringing sound resonated in the hall.

“I thought we agreed that your insubordination would be cured _quickly_.” Alecto remarked, in a mocking sort of pity as she walked closer to the girl’s shuddering body..

“I agreed to _nothing_.” Remington said breathlessly, but the venom in her voice was lost to the lingering traces of pain. Her chest heaved to drag in air, even though the movement sent stabs across her ribs.

Alecto made a chastising sound, flicking her wand at Remington, who screamed and twisted on the floor, “There will be no attitude from you, Alvers.” She said as she released the spell.

Rem’s body relaxed again, lying on her back, tear tracks running from the corners of her eyes. The corridor was empty now.

“Have you thought better of your insolence, yet?” Alecto inquired.

Remington was either a girl near breaking, or else one with enough gall to not give in, but enough fear of _something_ to not climb back to her feet. Alecto seemed resolved to find out which.

“I prefer the term _resolution_.” Rem responded.

“ _Resolution_.” Alecto scoffed, turning her wand on the girl once more, who made a sharp sound of pain as the scar on the side of her face tore open again, blood beginning to run down her cheek afresh. “You’ll get to look it in the eye every day of your short life.”

Remington heard her footsteps leave the room as she rolled her head to the side, her unmarked cheek on the floor once more, the other leaking blood down her chin. Her eyes stung with tears.

Giving in would be like giving up the last hope that Harry was still out there, preparing to end the Dark Lord. She may have downtalked all the thoughts that Harry might return, but it would be the end of all possibilities of ever feeling safe or genuinely happy again. Nobody could afford that kind of outlook.

She heard footsteps cross the corridor, walking around her and stopping where she could see the black shoes that made the sound.

“Remington.” Draco said quietly, crouching down and taking her hands, smoothing them out of their fists and brushing her hair away from the reopened wound on her cheek. “Why?”

“What’s the point?” She said softly, “If he’s not coming back, it’s hardly worth-”

“Can’t you try to keep yourself from this?” He said, “For me?”

“You don’t have to be around when-” She started.

“You’re not the only one who has to see that scar every day.” He interrupted her.

Her eyes moved up to look at his face, which was resolutely blank, though she could see the pain in his eyes, which looked slightly red.

Tears clouded her gaze. “Draco.” She said, a bit thickly.

“Don’t.” He said, pulling on her hands. “Let’s go to the infirmary.”

**=+=+=+=**

 “I can’t handle it anymore, Rem. I’m going to end up hexing that goddamn woman into oblivion for what she’s done to you- And you’ll hate me for it.”

She didn’t say anything, looking down at her sneakers as they walked down the corridor right before the hospital wing.

“I’m never going to win with you, Rem.” He said quietly, a hint of defeat leaking into his voice.

“Neither of us are ever going to win until this war is over, Draco. You know it just as well as I do.” She told him, “There’s no way this can be any easier for us right now- we’re lucky we’re not dead, for how many people are getting killed.” She slowly moved her eyes up at him.

“You’ve been disregarding your luck since you got back here, Rem-”

“I’m sorry.” She interrupted him, sounding slightly indignant, but still sincere. “It’s a lot harder than you think to decide between fighting for what you believe in, and protecting what you’ve got left. I’m not like you, Draco. My family is more than half gone already. I’ve missed them.” She said quietly. “I’m not afraid of dying.” He was silent, completely at a loss as to what he should say to that. “I am afraid of leaving things behind, though. And pain. I’ve always been a bit afraid of pain.”


	30. Friends

Madame Pomfrey patched her up with another large white bandaging pad, which Remington tore off as soon as she left. After the show Alecto made of her, she had a pressing need to find Ginny, Neville, and Luna. If Alecto had been so violent with her, she didn’t know what to expect of the others. She hadn’t seen them in the hospital wing.

Draco followed her quietly as she made her way up the stairs. She wasn’t entirely sure if he was hurt or brooding over what she’d said earlier, but he hadn’t said more than a couple words since.

The only place she could think of in order to find them was the Room of Requirement, and when she reached it she realized that she couldn’t take Draco with her if Dumbledore’s Army was hiding inside. They wouldn’t be comfortable with a Death Eater walking into their rendezvous.

“Draco-” She began.                                                                                   

“I’m not keen on waiting out here like a dog.” He told her abruptly.

She turned to look at him. “I’ll only be a minute. I just want to check on everyone-”

“Don’t be long.” His eyes took in the wide, looming oak doors that presented themselves upon the wall. The golden handles sat waiting.

“I won’t.” She assured him before striding up to the entrance and slipping inside quietly.

Inside, there were hammocks hung in recesses that lined the walls, a couple sleeping bags, pillows and blankets were strewn about the floor. Two cushy-looking couches sat before a fireplace, along with a short little table with gryphon-style feet and tall-backed armchairs.

“Luna, really, I’m _fine-_ ” Ginny’s voice floated from one of the couches.

Rem could see Luna, dabbing lightly at the red-head’s arm, which looked scraped and swollen. As she turned and took a couple steps in their direction, a hand brushed her shoulder and she faced the culprit.

Neville’s expression darkened when she saw him, and he took his hand away slowly. She could see one black eye already, and his nose looked as though it had recently been broken and reset.

“Again?” He asked her.

She realized that he was talking about the gash on her cheek when his gaze shifted over it. “Don’t start.” Rem shot at him.

“You’d think if he cared, he’d-”

She remembered when she’d first been given the wound by Alecto, how Ginny had immediately demanded whether Draco was responsible for it. And now Neville was attacking him. “I don’t want him to interfere.” She told him venomously. “I want him to stay out of it and worry about himself. That’s why. I can keep myself alive. I want him to do the same.”

“And that’s love?” Neville said, his tone quite gentle compared to hers. “Just keeping yourselves alive?”

“Is there anything that can be done right now?” She countered. “That’s the most I can ask for at the moment. Is that he stays alive.”

“Harry’s going to come back, you know.” He said, “And when You-Know-Who is gone, Malfoy won’t have a chance.”

“We’ve got a plan.” She assured him. “I’m not ignorant.”

“If you think I don’t know that, you’re more ignorant than I thought.” He returned. “I’m just- worried about you. Everyone needs someone to have their back, the way the world is right now.”

“I’m fine.” She said steadily, giving him a hard look. Her eyes moved to Luna and Ginny, the former of which was openly watching them, and the latter was pretending not to.

“So are we,” Luna called out airily, “Thanks for coming to see.”

Rem forced out a half-smile and looked at Neville again. “Very well, I’ll get myself gone, then.” She stepped out to open the door, but Neville’s hand caught the knob first.

“I was headed to the kitchens.” He explained. “You first.” He added as he pulled the door open.

Draco was waiting exactly where she left him when she walked out of the Room of Requirement. Ginny left the room after Neville and shot a look towards the Slytherin while her housemate started down the hall without so much as a glance.

“Malfoy,” She greeted, not entirely unkindly.

“Weasley.” He returned, his own tone civil, but notably cold.

The word seemed to flick a switch in the Gryffindor boy, who came to a halt only a handful of strides away and spun to face the blonde. “You may have her convinced you wouldn’t hurt her, but the least you could do is protect her.”

“I don’t need protecting.” Remington snapped out before Draco could speak first, wrapping a hand around his arm and keeping a firm grip, tugging him gently.

“Keep out of where you don’t belong, Longbottom.” Draco warned darkly, eyes narrow.

“Even you should know she deserves better, Malfoy.” Neville returned.

“I hope you don’t mean yourself.” Draco shot back, clearly entirely prepared to take on the Gryffindor then and there.

“As long as it’s not you.”

“Neville!” Ginny hissed, her eyes sharp on her Housemate.

Rem managed to steer Draco away, but it was apparent that he was still seething. She lead him down into an alcove hidden down an off-shooting corridor, not sure what to expect from him when he finally spoke up.

“Whatever is going on between you and Longbottom-” He began indignantly, careful to keep his voice down. “ _I don’t like it_.”

“We are _friends_ , Draco.” She stressed in minor annoyance.

“The way it sounded-”

“Friends try to protect each other, Draco. Like Fay tried to tell you to stay away from me in fifth year-”

“You know about that?”

“It wasn’t that hard to guess.”

“That’s not the point-” He said, obviously still livid over Neville’s warning.

“Hey,” She stopped him before he could get too worked up all over again. “I didn’t agree to marry _Neville_. I’m marrying _you_.”


	31. Threats & Co.

“I’ll see you after the holidays, Hagrid.” Remington said, “Have a good one.”

“You too, Remington.” He returned, propping their shovels against his hut. It had been a gruesome chore they’d done for her detention that night. Earlier in the day Hagrid had found an elder thestral, in its weakened state of old age, something had preyed on it in the night, and Hagrid and Remington had buried it on the edge of the Forest. “Stay safe now, yeh hear?”

“Of course.” She smiled, shoving her gloved hands into her coat pockets and heading back to the castle. The next morning, everyone who was going home for the Christmas Holidays would be boarding the Hogwarts Express. Remington was not yet entirely packed, and still had a patrol to attend to that night. She’d be monitoring the lower halls, with Fay walking the upper ones. She was just relieved that she no longer had to report for detention, being that it was now as good as Christmas vacation.

As she made her way up the stone steps, she could see a dark figure standing in the shadow of the large oak entry doors, seemingly waiting for her. It was hard to make out features, since the sun set nearly two hours prior.

“Why, Severus, how kind of you to wait up for me.” Remington said, her tone awash in bitter sarcasm.

“You might hold your tongue, Remington. I have more than enough authority to keep you in detention for the remainder of your enrollment here.” Snape returned.

“You know, I’ve already been reprimanded by you more than I ever was by my own father.” She commented. “But what is it? I know you didn’t come all the way down here to-”

“Tomorrow, on the Express, there will be an incident. I need you to remain in control of the situation throughout. I assume that Mister Longbottom and the Weasley girl will likely become a problem. _Do not let that happen_.” He interrupted her, serene and foreboding as ever.

“What’s this _incident_?” She demanded. “What about Ginny and Neville?”

“You know very well that I can’t tell you that.” He was looking down his nose at her. She wondered if he ever looked straight at anyone in his life. “But as long as you don’t let those two become involved, no one need be harmed.”

“Is this a threat?” She asked, indignance rising in her throat. Snape had never gone so far as to directly threaten any of her friends.

“It’s a warning, Remington. As much as your cohorts vex me, I’m not about to let unnecessary damage be done.” He told her. “And you needn’t worry about Miss Lovegood, either. She will be kept safe.” Even if she had tried to question him further, it would have done no good. Snape had retreated into the castle before she could even make sense of what he’d said.

Something was going to happen to Luna, of that, she was sure. The need to warn someone shot through her, and her hand gripped the door handle.

But what good would it be to warn someone? She was fighting Death Eaters, here. They’d infiltrated every facet of Wizarding life. The government, the education, the livelihoods…. She knew she couldn’t fight what was going to happen, and if Severus had thought she could, he may have mentioned it. Maybe. She still couldn’t tell who he was working for, or what side he was on in the case that he was working for himself.

Warning any of the D.A. would ensue a struggle. And people might get hurt… Or _would_ get hurt, if she were to take Snape’s word for it.

She yanked the door open enough to slip through. The headmaster was nowhere in sight, but Filch was making his way towards the doors, presumably to begin locking it down for the night. The point of having a non-magical caretaker never made much sense to her. She was perfectly content to let him struggle with the heavy wooden beams and cranks that locked the massive doors against whatever lay outside them. It would have only taken a wizard a flick of a wand to have the job finished.

She started down towards the dungeons to begin her patrol. Until she was released at two in the morning, she had all the time in the world to think about what she wanted to do with the information she’d been given. As she descended the stairs into the dungeon, she could hear soft sounds, a quiet scuffle from the alcove behind them. The same nook that Draco had pulled her into after Christmas break the first year she’d known him.

She raised her wand towards the space, illuminating it. Two fifth years stood like small animals in the face of a predator. A Slytherin and a Hufflepuff, flushed and of the opposite gender.

“Aren’t you two an amusing couple?” Remington commented, lowering her wand a bit to avoid blinding them too badly, and so that they could see her face as well. Perhaps not the best idea. The scar that was finally nearly healed probably scared them more than if she’d kept her features hidden. She felt a sharp tinge in her chest when their eyes widened the slightest bit more. Of course, they were sure to recognize her.

“We weren’t-” The boy began.

“Oh, I know what you _weren’t_ doing.” Rem cut in. “Get back to your dorms. It’s not safe out here. There’s Carrows about.” She told them, and watched them turn and run off, the Slytherin lighting a wand to see where they were going.

There had been a handful of times in the past few months that she’d had to break up amorous couples in dark corners. It was no surprise that she’d already found one such couple that night, considering that the students wouldn’t be likely to see each other for two weeks.

“Playing the bad guy tonight, Alvers?”

The voice didn’t even startle her as it might have once. She was getting so used to Draco showing up out of seemingly nowhere. This time, he materialized out of the hallway that came the opposite direction of the Slytherin common room.

“I’m trying to do my job, thank you.” Remington replied as he sidled up beside her.

“It’s the night before Christmas Holidays start, do you honestly think anything’s going to happen?” He prompted.

She shot him a look, as best she could in the dark. There was hardly any light in the dungeons, due to the lack of windows, but for torches that were distantly spaced along the walls. “Snape stopped me on my way in.”

“What did he want?” Draco inquired, a strain of distaste in his voice.

“Something’s going to happen tomorrow. On the train-” She trailed off, looking up at him and came to a halt. The look on his face told her everything. “You knew. You already know about it.” She accused.

“I just found out about it while you were in detention- Snape called me into his office. Called the Carrows up after-”

“What’s going to happen? What are they doing to Luna?” She pressed.

“Rem, he didn’t give me details.” He said quietly. “But I’m telling you now- whatever _does_ happen, _don’t get in the way_. Trust me. It’ll be better that way.”

“I can’t just let something happen if it’s going to hurt someone or-”

“No one will get hurt if they don’t interfere.”

“Draco-” She began, frustrated. Something told her he knew more than he was letting on. “I can’t believe that. Not when we’re talking about Death Eaters.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Fine.” He breathed when he opened them again. “I don’t know how to convince you.”

She exhaled in irritation and turned to start walking down the corridor again.

“We have more to talk about than that, Remington.” Draco said, taking up stride beside her again. “About you visiting the Manor.”

“And that-” She said, halting again to spin towards him, “Is that such a great idea? I mean, with your parents-”

“Your future mother- and father-in-law.” He amended. She groaned. That made things sound much too serious. “It’ll only be one day, Rem. Certainly, you can handle that.”

“It’s not because they’re your parents, Draco. It’s because of…” She trailed off at the way his eyes turned dark. He knew she was going to mention their ties to the Dark Arts. “Your father _hates_ me.” She said instead.

“My mother _adores_ you-” He countered. “You’re coming, and that’s final.”

“Excuse me?” She said, eyebrows raised, “When did you go from my fiancé to my mother?”

“Well, since you don’t listen to your actual mother, I suppose someone needs to step in.” He reasoned.

“You know what, Malfoy-”

“I will even Apparate to your house to pick you up.” He interrupted. She made an irritable sound and turned, continuing down the dark hall. He followed after her without hesitation. “Your mother will be pleased to see me, I’m sure- I can’t be certain when, though, Rem.”

“Well I can assure you my holidays will consist of a whole lot of nothing.” She said. She was like not to see anyone over break after they arrived at Platform 9 ¾. Which brought her mind back to the train ride. “You’re sure you don’t know anything else about Luna?” She inquired softly.

“No, Remington. You know what I know.” He said. She glanced at him, but it was too dark to read his expression. She pursed her lips. Draco came to a stop, grabbing her arm. “I promise she’ll be okay.”

Rem looked up at him. “You _can’t_ promise me that, you know you can’t. What say do you have in the Death Eaters, Draco? Your family status is falling. You _know_ that what you went through last year-”

“We’re _not_ talking about this, Remington.” He broke in sharply.

“You can’t promise me she’ll be safe! Neither you, nor Snape!” She hissed.

“Have some faith, Rem-” He began, an edge still in his tone.

“Anything bad that _can_ happen, _will_ happen. That’s how things are now-” She started to argue in frustration. Before she could get the whole thought out, however, Draco had caught her by the back of the neck and pressed his lips against hers.

When he broke away, he rested his forehead against her own. “I don’t want to argue.” He murmured.

“No,” She said, “I _know_ what you want.” She said, about to push him back a sobering step or two, but he merely tightened his arm around her waist. His mouth had already moved to her neck.  “Draco.” She said warningly, “I’m trying to be stubborn.”

“You’re interfering with my being stubborn.” He remarked against her skin.

“What are your parents going to say when they see hickeys on my throat, Draco?” She prompted.

“Well I very well can’t put them anywhere less conspicuous while we’re in the middle of a hallway, can I?” He leaned his forehead against hers again. “But look, there’s an empty classroom not even four yards from us-”

“Good Lord, Draco- this is _not_ what good students-”

“When have I _ever_ been a _good student_?” He gave her a hard look. Or so she thought, trying to read him through the dim.

She was meant to be patrolling. But honestly, if Hell was going to break out on the train tomorrow, was anything _really_ going to happen tonight? And her obstinate nature told her to fight her first argument the whole way through, like she usually let it. Clearly, he could tell that she was contemplating  insisting she continue her watch.

“Maybe I’ll persuade you.” He breathed before his mouth met hers.


	32. Loyalty In Greyscale

She stepped into the girl’s dormitory as quietly as she could. At three in the morning, they were all bound to be fast asleep. Remington still needed to pack her bags for the holidays, but was resigned to do so in the morning, after the sun came up. That way she could see what she was doing, and not worry about waking the other girls.

“Back?” A familiar voice met her when she least expected it and jumped slightly as she was closing the door behind her. Fay had just returned from her own patrol, it seemed.

“Yeah.” Rem responded softly, picking her way across the room to her bunk.

“Anything interesting?” Fay inquired under her breath, tying her hair up like she did every night before bed.

Remington felt a little guilty, Fay having been doing her job like she was supposed to, while Rem had been drug into a disused classroom for Draco’s amusement (and admittedly, her own). “Not really.”

“Same.” Fay yawned, “I’ll see you in the morning, Rems.”

“Yeah.” Remington said again, kicking her shoes off. It would be a short night’s rest.

**=+=+=+=**

The train felt quieter than usual. No one seemed to fell the holidays at all. It was like the students were numb. Which, very well could have been the case.

Remington looked up from her book. Fay was dead to the world, exhausted from her patrol, her head nestled against the curve of Seamus’ neck. Ginny was staring gloomily out the window, scowling to herself. Neville was reading something in the seat across from her. Rem had the notion that it was related to Herbology. Luna was flipping through a picture book for the second time already.

They had already gone half the ride without any incident. Of course, she knew better than to start hoping that nothing would happen. And just as she was thinking that, the train began to slow.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked quickly, suddenly alert.

“We’re stopping.” Neville remarked, closing his book and sitting up straighter.

“I know, but _why_?” Ginny returned as the train halted completely. It was silent for a moment, then sounds started drifting from the corridor. Then Ginny shifted her gaze to Remington.

“You’re awfully quiet, Remington.” Neville said.

Her eyes flicked up, fiery. “I don’t know what’s going on. But I know that no one is supposed to be hurt.” She said. “If I did know anything more, I would have told you.” There were boots closing in on their compartment. “Please relax.”

The two shot to their feet as the door opened up none too gently. Seamus had a protective arm around Fay, who was now very awake. The man at the door was clothed in black, and his hair was only just long enough to tell that it was just as dark as his attire.

“What do you want?” Neville demanded, wand out.

“Put that thing away, laddie, I’m not here for you.” The Death Eater said, sharp in tone and Irish accent.

“Who are you here for?” Ginny interjected, but the man had already strode in, seizing Luna by an arm and hauling her to her feet.

There was suddenly another man in the compartment, then another. They had their wands pointed at those who looked the most likely to retaliate, Ginny and Neville. The D.A. in the space all hand hands on their wands, ready for a fight. The first Death Eater had Luna out in the corridor already.

Remington’s whole body ached with tension. It wanted so badly to spring out of her seat, to defend Luna. In her mind, she damned Snape for asking her to let them take Luna. She damned every witch or wizard who wore that hideous snake on their arm-

“ _Rem_!” Fay hissed. The entire compartment was on their feet except Remington.

She looked up at the brown-eyed girl, “Luna will be okay.” She said, but the words sounded like a lie, to her own ears especially. They stared at her with some measure of disbelief, and probably betrayal. She refused to meet any of their gazes as the Death Eaters disappeared.

As soon as the train was moving again, Remington slipped out of the compartment and determinedly headed towards the back of the train. She knew she would find the Seventh year Slytherins back there. Sure enough, she found the compartment containing Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle, and the one person that she had meant to find.

 She threw open the door and took a single stride in. Draco was on his feet almost immediately. “Where are they taking her? Draco, _tell me what’s going on_.” She hadn’t stopped to contemplate how the other occupants would react to her barging in, but Draco grasped her upper arm with a grip like a vice and forced her out of the compartment before him, but Rem still caught a glimpse of Pansy’s amused and satisfied features.  Rem tried to yank out of his hold, but failed. He pushed her into an empty compartment a couple doors down. There was an overabundance of empty compartments, it seemed.

“Where the hell did they take her?” She snapped. “Tell me now.”

“Breathe for a second-” He began to try to calm her. It was impossible to reason with Remington when she was wound up.

“Don’t give me that!” Her eyes were narrow and venomous. For a moment Draco was relieved that her anger was only indirectly focused on him. To have her full rage laid on him would be quite frightening. He’d dealt with many Death Eaters, of all ranks and strengths, but Remington’s anger was always much more raw, and much less controlled. It was immediate and most times, not easy to satiate by any means. “They _took_ her, Draco. They took Luna. Why would they take Luna?”

His lips parted for a moment, as if he were going to say something, but then he thought better and closed his mouth. Her glare was starting to abate the slightest bit, her fury laced with worry. “She’ll be okay. You have to trust me.”

“You can’t promise these things, Draco. We’ve gone over this. It’s not that easy-”

“I _swear_ that she’ll be fine, so long as her father ceases production of the Quibbler.” He reiterated.

She merely looked at him for a moment, and he could see the pieces fitting behind her eyes. “Of course. That’s why the Quibbler’s banned at school, _again_. That’s why they- They don’t want anyone spreading word about Harry and keeping people’s spirits up. Oh, that poor man.” She had a hand pressed against her forehead. “He doesn’t have anything left and they took Luna.”

“So we can rest assured that he won’t do anything that will put her in harm’s way. She’ll be safe, where they’re keeping her.” He tried to sound reassuring. Rem’s anger was already dissipating into something more forlorn.

“Where?” She demanded.

“I don’t know.” He forced the words out.


	33. Escort

The one thing Remington could think of that would make being curled up in bed with her torn and battered copy of Pride and Prejudice was a cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. It was snowing outside, for once a fluffy, slow snow instead of a wet, smushy mess of half-frozen water. The curtains were thrown back in her room, and she’d made a point to pull her old comforter out of the closet to use instead of the heavy quilt that was already on her bed. She was re-reading the marked pages in her book. It had slowly morphed into her favorite book. She was nearly to the part where Mr. Darcy proposes for the first time-

“It’s eleven o’clock and you’re _still_ in bed.” The voice startled her and she lost her page. She would have thrown the book at Draco if she weren’t afraid it’d deteriorate into little more than dust and paper fibers. He was leaning against her doorway, dressed to the nines as he always was.

“It’s Christmas break, I’m _allowed_ to stay in bed past eleven.” She returned.

“Mmm.” He hummed to himself, taking slow, careful strides into the room. He reminded her somewhat of a prowling cat, like a panther or a leopard. “I’d like to amend that rule.” He said as he came to a halt, leaning his hip against the bottom post of her bed.

“Oh, really?” She prompted.

“You’re allowed to stay in bed however long you like,” He began, “As long as I’m in bed _with_ you.”

“You better hope my mother didn’t hear that.” She remarked, “Speaking of, _how_ exactly did you get in my house?”

“Your mother let me in, of course, with all of the ‘good to see you’s and ‘what a nice surprise’s.” He said. His eyes focused on her, narrow. She remembered that she was only wearing the jumper that he’d let her take and a pair of leggings.

“Well, I suppose I should get dressed and we can head out-” She narrowed her eyes on him sharply, “Don’t _even_ make a remark about getting _undressed_.” His eyebrows arched in what she assumed was the closest expression he could make to innocence. “I’ll meet you downstairs Draco.”

She climbed out of bed and walked over to her trunk that she’d brought back from Hogwarts, but didn’t take anything.

She’d be seeing Draco’s parents later that day. And for a moment she was struck with the simple, but overwhelming idea of having to put a good impression on her boyfriend- _fiancé’s_ parents. Not that she hadn’t met them before and already weighed in her first impression, but now she was _engaged_ to their son. They’d be her in-laws _forever_. So she stood there, staring unseeingly at her trunk of clothes and feeling very suffocated inside.

But reality came crashing back down. There was no way she’d ever be good enough for Draco’s parents. She wore the proof of her blood-traitor antics on her face, even if they wouldn’t be aware that’s what it was. She’d watched his father be hauled to Azkaban for crimes _against her_. Her mother may accept her to a degree, but Remington would never be _Pureblood_ enough for her, after her friendship with Harry and his supporters. The fact that Draco loved her would be all the acceptance they would give her.

Even so, she found herself turning and moving towards her closet, pulling the doors open and pulling one of her best sweaters off the hanger, then a pair of leggings that her mother had bought her for Christmas years ago, rich in material. And after she was dressed, for the first time in a long while, she chose to forgo her once-scarlet sneakers, and pulled on a pair of plain flats instead.

As she stood looking in the mirror, the difference made her feel like a stranger. Her hair was still long, and brown as it ever was, but it fell over her shoulders lifelessly. Her scar seemed offensive and violent, like it might attack someone itself, if Rem didn’t do so first. She was thin to a degree that she’d only ever reached when she’d been having nightmares. And her outfit was hardly _Remington_ at all.

Nonetheless, she grabbed her wand and made her way downstairs. At the bottom, she could see Draco leaning back against the end of the banister, and her mother wrapped in a fringed shawl, standing in the entry to the living room. Their voices floated up the stairs, and she could hear her mother inquiring as to his father’s apothecary, and whether he intended to take over after the school year was up.

When Remington had gotten about halfway down the staircase, her mother looked up at her and gave a smile, a genuine smile that made it all the way to her eyes. “I’ll see you later tonight, Rem. Give your mother my regards, Draco.” She said as she turned back in to the living room.

Draco’s eyes met Rem’s as Marissel retreated back to the novel she’d left open on the sofa.

“I hope I’m not dressed too much like a Muggle.” Rem remarked.

“No,” He responded. “You look very much like a witch.”

“Does the scar give it away?” She managed a tight smile, but Draco only scowled at her. “My mother bought me nearly this whole outfit. I think I can trust her to only give me witch-esque things.”

“We should get going. I have a lot to show you.” He held his arm out for her.

“Apparating?” She asked. “Why not just by Floo-”

“They’re monitoring the network, Rem. It’s best to be under the radar.” She didn’t say anything to that, since she knew he was right, but couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. She was able to Apparate just fine – she’d passed the test, after all, but she liked to avoid it when she could.

“Lead the way, then.” She said, grasping his arm.


	34. Impressions

She knew she was holding onto his arm tighter than necessary.

“Are you _afraid_ of Apparating?” Draco asked in disbelief. She scowled up at him, loosening her grasp, but not letting go quite yet.

“I don’t like the feeling.” She answered tersely. Once she felt enough like she was on solid ground, it was immediately obvious that they were outside. And it was cold.

Draco was already sliding his suit jacket off his shoulders. “Really? That’s not exactly how it came across.” But she didn’t really hear him.

“What are you- ?” She began, before he draped the jacket over her.

“I know it’s cold.” He told her, “But I wanted to go for the full effect.”

“The- what?” She prompted, but it became clear what he meant when she allowed herself to really take in where they were. In front of them were two massive hedgerows. They extended on both sides nearly as far as she could see, and between them, directly ahead of her and Draco, was a huge wrought-iron gate. But the real kicker was the behemoth of a building that rose out of the hedges ahead. Malfoy Manor looked like it could have been yanked right out of Pride and Prejudice, a contestant to Mr. Darcy’s own Pemberly. However, Rem was sure that the mansion she was looking at had a much more eerie aura.

“My God, Draco.” She breathed.

“Come along, Remington.” He said, and she could hear the patronizing tone in his voice, though she followed him anyway.

He stepped right through the gate without bothering to open it, and the bars parted like smoke. The hedges were too tall to see over, but she could hear flowing water, and assumed there were fountains beyond them. The ground underfoot was covered in a very thin layer of snow, and underneath was gravel that crunched with every step. It wasn’t like the gravel roads that she was used to, where it was about half dirt and half gravel.

About halfway to the manor she caught sight of slight movement atop the hedge. A white peacock turned its head to watch her passing.

“You have pet peacocks.” She remarked in disbelief.

He pursed his lips in a clear effort to not appear amused.

As they approached the manor, the details grew more notable. The windows were impressively large, with criss-crossing metal frames giving the glass a gilded look. Light glimmered from the other side, but Remington could make out nothing from through the window itself. Even the stone that made up the walls of the manor seemed ornate. The front doors certainly were. They were large and of dark, solid wood, carved with intricate designs.

“This is what you grew up in.” She murmured.

“Luxury.” He agreed.

“Draco, this is-” She was silenced when the front doors opened of their own accord, inviting them in. There were portraits on all of the walls, and the wall opposite the doorway, several yards away, was covered with two giant mirrors, separated in between with a closed door. She could see herself in the reflection, Draco’s tall, light-headed and diplomatic figure stood beside her own. She felt pathetic standing next to him; even in her sweater and richly-made leggings she clearly didn’t belong in such a marvelous place. The fact that Draco’s suit coat made her look simultaneously tiny and bulky at the same time certainly didn’t help.

The portraits stared down at her, some of them muttered quietly behind their hands to each other. None looked pleased.

Draco was far from blind to her discomfort and seized her arm, leading her towards a staircase that branched off to the left. There was an identical staircase that lead to the right. The entrance hall seemed an odd room, mirror images on each side. Quite literally.

“Who were the pictures of?” She asked.

“Malfoys.” He replied. “My ancestors.”

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs.” He remarked. _Obviously_.

“Draco!” She snapped in protest.

“I want to show you something.” He reiterated.

She rolled her eyes, but followed him nonetheless. Being that it was much warmer inside the manor, she slipped Draco’s jacket off her shoulders and handed it back to him.

The second floor wasn’t much different from the first. There was lavish carpeting on the floor, and portraits nearly everywhere she looked. Light streamed from the windows, and light fixtures on the ceiling that you would almost swear were powered with electricity, if you didn’t notice the light dancing subtly behind the frosted glass.

“This is mostly a guest wing.” He commented. That fact shocked her slightly, there were at least ten doors between the two walls of the hallway. “The master room is at the very end, though.” He added.

“Then where’s your room?” She inquired.

“On the next floor.” He said, then gestured across the landing. Opposite them was another staircase which ascended another floor yet. She assumed that was where the stairs to the right had lead. “But I want to show you this.” He strode down the hall, which seemed strangely wide for a home, to the forth door on the right and pulled it open. “Ladies first.”

She gave him a slightly dubious look, but stepped inside. The room was positively enormous. Certainly, the ceiling was two stories tall, and the windows in the room just as large. But the most monumental thing about the room: the books. There were shelves that stretched all to way to the top of the room, lining every wall, save for where there were windows or doors, or the one, stone-made fireplace. There were a couple sofas, and a chaise, as well as a large desk and several coffee tables. On the window sill there were cushions for sitting.

She pressed her palm to her mouth, mostly to keep herself from letting her jaw gape wide. She couldn’t think of a word to convey the disbelief of a single family owning books on such a colossal scale. Stacked to the double-high ceiling were all manners of books, stout and thick, tall and demanding, gold-bound and ratty leather. It made her hands itch to slide them from their resting places and flip through them.

“I thought you’d like the study.” He remarked. “My father’s personal study is through that door.” He added, gesturing to a doorway on the wall adjacent. “No one ever really uses this room.” That thought was unbelievable, but she didn’t say anything. “I’m sure you would.”

“How on Earth-” She began.

“Centuries of collecting,” He answered before she could finish. “That’s how. My family has owned this Manor since the 1060’s.” He paused, looking at the book cases. “Speaking of things that have been passed down through the generations-” He commented, she glanced at him. “This belongs to you now.” In his hand, held out towards her, as something small and shiny. Instinctively, she reached out to take whatever the object was, but once it was in her hands, she realized what exactly she was holding and promptly tried to give it back.

Draco’s brow knitted, surprise, among other things flashed in his expression. “Rem- ?”

“That’s not right,” She said fervently, “You’re supposed to propose to me.” Something about just being _given_ an engagement ring didn’t sit right with her, it was so against tradition. Normally, she would think Draco one to stick to tradition like his life depended on it, but then again, to kneel down and _ask_ something of someone was very _un-_ Draco.

“Remington, we already agreed-” He began.

“Propose to me, Draco.” She insisted.

He looked at her for a moment, completely at loss, then took the ring back. Something in his mannerism had changed completely from what it had been when he handed it to her. If Rem didn’t know better, she’d say that he was _actually_ nervous, or at least something close to it.

He dropped down onto one knee, then looked back up at her, “Marry me, Remington.” It was more statement than it was question, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be bothered by it. Instead, she seized the arm he had reached out towards her and pulled him back to his feet, drawing him closer and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. One arm held her around the waist, “Do you want the ring, or not?” He remarked.

“I suppose it’s customary, isn’t it?” She sighed, as if it were a chore, and moved her left arm between them. The ring fitted itself to her finger with whatever magic was instilled in it. There was no center stone on the band, but rather many small ones all across it.

“My grandmother Drucella gave it to my mother before she passed. Since I’m the only grandchild she acknowledged.”

“She’d be horrified to know it was in the hands of a blood traitor.” Rem commented, looking down at the object in question, one arm still hooked over Draco’s shoulder.

“But you’re not just any blood traitor,” He said, and she could bet money that that was the most affectionately he’d ever said ‘blood traitor’ in his life. His lips pressed against her cheek. “You’re _my_ blood traitor, and therefore,” He kissed her jaw, “Acceptable.”

“ _Acceptable_?” She prompted as his mouth moved on to her neck. “This is your fiancé you’re talking about, Draco.”

“I mean the fact that you’re a blood traitor,” He said, in the tone that he used when trying to explain something simple. “I can tolerate that.”

It occurred suddenly to Remington that this was not at all the Draco that she’d met over two years ago. That Draco would have hesitated to touch her with a ten-foot pole if he were aware of the nature of her beliefs. That Draco would have torn her to pieces long before he would ever think to leave hickeys down her neck and tell her he loved her- no matter how evasively.

“Draco, I love you.” She said, turning her head so that he couldn’t kiss her throat anymore and their noses brushed.

“I love you, too, Rem.” He breathed in response.


	35. Manners

It was only moments later that she found herself sitting on that giant desk with Draco’s hips between her knees and his mouth on hers. She had some qualms with undressing in a _family_ room in the Malfoy Manor, but she wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to refuse Draco’s advances if he kept kissing her like that.

She was spared from the possibility when there was a resounding pop that echoed through the large room. She turned her head abruptly in surprise, and could see an older, but not yet elderly house-elf standing several feet away. Draco’s forehead rested against her temple, and she could sense the waves of irritation rolling off of him.

“Abner is sent to inform Master Draco that dinner is ready.” The creature said, as diplomatic as Remington thought she had ever heard a house-elf, but of course any house-elves owned by the Malfoys’ would be more stately than, say, her own.

“ _Dismissed_.” Draco hissed, still very annoyed indeed. Abner disappeared with another definitive _pop_. “We’ll finish this _later_.” He told her under his breath before he stepped away from her and ran a hand through his hair to be sure that it wasn’t out of place.

“You know, I shouldn’t be so embarrassed, since we’re engaged and that was only a house-elf,” She remarked, “But oddly enough, I am.”

He rolled his eyes and held out his hand for her. She took it and hopped off the desk. He pursed his lips and raised a hand, “Remember what I said.” He reminded her quietly, brushing his thumb across the scar on her face.

“Professor Carrow was teaching a class on curses, I failed to intercept quick enough when he asked me to come to the front and attempt to block the curse.” She recited a more elaborate excuse than what he’d given her.

“ _He_? So you chose Amycus over Alecto.” Draco commented.

“I don’t hate Amycus with the same fury that I hate Alecto.” She said, looking up into his eyes darkly. “I’m sure you can understand why.”

He pressed his lips against the scar lightly, “We’d better get moving.” He murmured, still grasping her hand as he lead her to the door.

**=+=+=+=**

Draco sat directly across from her at the table, which was rather large for four people. Narcissa had already been in the dining room, seated at one head of the table, when they’d walked in. She had greeted Remington with warmth, despite looking terribly strained and tired. However, her brow creased when she saw the right side of Remington’s face, though she said nothing.

It was when Narcissa’s eyes locked on the ring on Remington’s left hand that the threads of awkwardness started to close in on her. The blonde woman raised her eyes to look at her son, concern in her features. Rem’s discomfort escalated as the door opened, admitting none other than Lucius Malfoy.

Draco could see her entire frame stiffen up. Not that he hadn’t thought of it before, but suddenly the idea that perhaps _Remington_ hated his father moreso, and used the excuse of him hating _her_ to cover it. He watched her as she kept her eyes fixatedly on the tablecloth until she couldn’t seem to ignore the fact that she was being watched anymore.

She glanced up at Draco, then gathered the will to look down at the end of the table opposite Narcissa. It didn’t seem so difficult to share a table with the man after she got a good look at him. The ghost of Azkaban was in his eyes. It was clear that there was hardly anything left of the man who had attacked her and her friends at the Ministry. The change in him was nearly the same as that which Draco had shouldered from the end of their fifth year to the end of their sixth. “Good evening, Mister Malfoy.” She forced out. Draco had to commend her on how convincingly sincere she sounded.

Lucius merely stared at her for a moment before nodding slightly, “You as well, Remington.” She could see him eyeing the scar, and wondered how he’d go about bringing it up. Narcissa may be polite enough to ignore it, but she knew Lucius’ curiosity would overrule what manners he did have.

“It’s so nice to have you here, Remington.” Narcissa said, as if to make up for the tension between her husband and her son’s fiancé. “I know the Manor likely doesn’t seem like much at the moment; it’s hard times for everyone now.” She said apologetically as house-elves began to carry out platters of food. Remington counted about five of the creatures out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s magnificent, Missus Malfoy, really-” Rem began, glancing between Draco’s parents.

“Did you like the library?” She inquired. “Draco thought you’d be quite pleased with it.”

“It was wonderful.” She answered, noting that Draco had shifted from leaning his chin on his hand the slightest bit so he could cover his mouth. She knew without a doubt he was thinking about what they’d been doing in the study just before coming down to the dining room. She met his eyes for a moment, chastising him as much as she could with her gaze.

Narcissa smiled, and by now it seemed that all of the food was on the table and the house-elves had retreated.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Remington,” Lucius began.

 _Here it comes_ , she thought.

“How did you end up with such a grievous scar?”

“I volunteered to demonstrate blocking curses in Dark Arts.” She said, “It started out alright, but I was too slow; one of Professor Carrow’s spells partially got me.” She glanced at Draco, who was wearing his usual poker face.

“That’s such a pity,” Lucius commented, not sounding at all sardonic, to her surprise.

“They need to go easier on you students.” Narcissa said sympathetically.

The dinner that followed was notably strained, as would be expected. After all, Remington was a blood traitor sitting in the generations-long home of pure-blood supremacists. The man at the end of the table to her right was actually meant to be in Azkaban, if it weren’t for You-Know-Who, and was technically – if proper laws were headed – an escaped prisoner. Not to mention the fact that he had attacked Remington and her classmates two years prior. It seemed very much like Draco’s parents weren’t entirely sure what to make of her or the situation, and she was feeling the same about them. She did have to give Narcissa credit for all of her efforts at making it feel somewhat normal, however.


	36. Pieces

She followed him back up the stairs, then up the next flight as well. Once they reached the landing, she noted that there was another flight that went higher yet. “How many floors _are_ there, Draco?” She asked somewhat incredulously.

“This is the top floor.” He told her. “But there’s an observatory upstairs.”

“An _observatory_?” The idea of someone having such a thing in their own home was nigh unbelievable.

“Do I need to define it for you?” He commented.

“No, I-” She began, now trailing after him as he walked down the hall. “Draco, this is hardly a _house_. It’s-”

“A _manor_ , Remington.” He elaborated with a sardonic amusement.

“Excuse me for growing up like a relatively normal child.” She returned. He cast her a scathing look over his shoulder. “Don’t give me that look, Draco Lucius-”

She was abruptly cut off when he finally pushed open a door and dragged her inside by the arm, shutting the door immediately after. “What did I say about using my middle name?” He asked. He had her backed against the wall next to the door. “It’s not your house anymore, Alvers. It’s _my_ manor, _my_ rules, now.”

“I’m not sure it’s meant to be _literal-_ ” She said as his mouth met her neck. Her eyes took in the room they were in. The ceiling stretched at least twenty feet high, with windows all around the top. They must have been in a corner of the building, she realized, remembering seeing the towers that stood at each of the four corners when they’d walked up to the manor. There was a fireplace in the corner, a wardrobe against the far wall, an enormous bed a few feet ahead of her. “Is this your room?” She asked, sounding mildly breathless.

He retreated enough to give her a look. “Honestly, Remington.”

“Well?” She pressed.

“Yes, _for God’s sake_ , it’s my room.” He said, then flashed her a biting glance, “Any more questions?”

“Can I explore, or are you just going to make up for what you missed out on a couple hours ago, _right this second_?”

He rolled his eyes, but stepped away from her, “Be my guest, _Alvers_.” He said with his back towards her as she strode closer to the bed, pulling loose the tie he had around his neck.

“Am I not already?” She prompted, pacing away from the door and deeper into the room. The floor was dark lacquered hardwood, but there was an abundance of rich rugs. There was a chaise and armchair by the fireplace, and a desk against the wall to her left. She suspected that a person could live in the room quite easily if they were provided food. There was one set of doors that lead outside, to what she suspected was a balcony, and another door that was likely to a bathroom.

“You make yourself at home nearly anywhere you go.” He returned.

She elected to ignore the comment. “Why would your parents turn away the chance to have this room?” She inquired, looking back at him. He’d shed his suit coat as well by now, and stood leaning against a post on his bed, the sleeves of his button-up pushed up to his elbows. It hardly bothered her to see the Dark Mark on his arm anymore. Of course, she’d be happier if it was gone, but she’d grown so used to it by now that it hardly registered. It was easy to ignore in the face of everything else Draco was.

And at that moment, he was unquestionably alluring.

“My father kept the room he grew up in, while my grandparents’ was on this floor.” Draco remarked. “This is the room I grew up in, and therefore I’m keeping it.” He added, “Not to mention, I’d much rather be on a separate floor from my parents, for… unsubtle reasons.” He was wearing an allusive smirk. She cast him a withering look, but his attitude did nothing if not grew more connotative. “Alvers, I fully intend to break you of your reservations in bed.”

Her skin crawled at his convictions, but she couldn’t say for certain that it was in any way _bad_. “The way you say it doesn’t make it sound at all like what you mean.”

His smirk only grew more pronounced, darker. “I’m going to make you _scream_ , Alvers.”

 Just because she wanted to irk him enough to knock him off his self-assuredness, she replied, “In frustration?”

He growled something about her being a ‘ _damned shrew_ ’ and took the couple strides it required to reach her and drag her to him, and claim her mouth in a demanding kiss. But she merely laughed against his lips and pushed his chest with her palms.

“C’mon, Draco.” She said, running her nose across his cheek. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that he had a look of supreme annoyance on his face and was glaring at her with the irritation of a rejected egomaniac.

“You really should see someone about bipolar disorder.” He retorted.

She maneuvered out of his grip and moved towards the bed, pulling her sweater over her head as she went. Once she was at the bedside, she turned back to see him, sliding his own shirt from his arms and walking towards her.

The fire that had been in his eyes moments before had faded, replaced in part by something softer. “Alright Alvers, we can do this on your terms.” He murmured, his thumbs slipping into the waistband of her leggings. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

She gave a quiet laugh, “I’m not the one with that problem.” She responded, kissing him. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t attempt to rush her, keeping the kiss soft and measured. She wasn’t sure how long it took before she crawled back onto the bed and coaxed him to join her. After the kissing had subsided, Rem was sitting on his hips, looking down at him.

She ran her fingers over his chest, with all the scars from the _Sectumsempra_ of the previous year. Snape was right in his assumptions, however the dittany couldn’t erase all of the evidence of that day. There were white lines, short ones, long ones, all over his chest and his stomach, even on his collarbones, and if one were to look hard enough, his neck. At least, the dittany had cured any gashes that may have been on his face and spared him from those scars and therefore any obvious signs of the incident.

Remington, however, was not so lucky.

She could feel her eyes growing warm and damp. “We’re both in pieces, aren’t we?” She said, not moving her gaze.

He reached up to press his palm to the side of her face, but she merely grasped his forearm, her hand wrapping right over the Dark Mark, as she leaned down, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

“Rem.” He breathed, as she clutched his arm to her chest and held on to his hand. With his right arm free, he cupped the back of her head.

This hadn’t been what he was expecting, but he knew he should have been. She’d pushed herself, and the main way she dealt with that was through claiming she was fine and arguing with him to burn off her stress. Neither were good coping strategies, and it seemed that they’d caught up with her, as she cried into his shoulder.

He didn’t like her tears any more than he would’ve liked his own. At least now, it was something he could handle, being there for her to hold on to and cry. The night in fifth year was still fresh in his mind, when he was patrolling as a newly-appointed prefect and Rem came charging around the corner just to fall to pieces, arms clamped around his neck like a vice. Then, he was damn near terrified by it. This girl – this _Gryffindor_ girl – was clinging to him and bawling like a broken record. And he, Draco Malfoy, was supposed to do what about it, exactly? Comfort her? Unlikely.

He ran his hand down her back. There was remorse between all of her vertebrae, in the way he could feel every one of her ribs even beside her spine. Remington was being consumed by the war, just like the majority of the wizarding world. For a moment, he wished she wouldn’t’ve left America, thinking for a moment that she’d be safer there. At least she wouldn’t have gotten tangled up with him that way.


	37. Smudging The Family Name

Remington couldn’t help but notice that she was warm, comfortably warm, when she woke up. It was a feeling she was starting to get used to, even though it was one she’d only experienced about a dozen times. Waking up beside Draco was something she couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy.

Something she didn’t enjoy, however, was the feeling of an elbow stuck under her ribs. When she grabbed his wrist and tried to move his arm up, though, his arms merely tightened around her and pulled her back against his body, eliciting an uncomfortable grunt from her.

“That wasn’t a happy sound.” Draco remarked, his voice coarse from sleep and very close to her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck.

“You’re up?” She inquired.

“I’m not a particularly deep sleeper,” He responded, “So when you were trying to hold my hand-”

“I wasn’t trying to hold your hand, I was trying to move your arm so I didn’t get a bruise from-”

“What have you ever cared about bruises?” He interrupted.

“Fair enough.” She rolled onto her stomach and turned her head so she could see him. “But they don’t feel particularly nice.” She added, closing her eyes.

He brushed her hair to the side and leaned over to kiss the nape of her neck. “Be that as it may,” He said, placing another kiss there. “I’ve never-” He cut off abruptly, drawing away from her.

Her eyes opened, focusing on his face. There was pain there. “Draco?” She pushed herself up to sit and saw that his right hand was clutching his left forearm. “The mark?” She whispered.

Draco practically jumped out of bed. He didn’t leave Remington any time to admire his person before he’d pulled on some clothes and strode back to the bedside, a hand resting against the back of her head. “I’m very sorry, Rem. I have to go, and I need you to use the fireplace- go home by Floo. Do _not_ leave the room.”

“But the Floo is being monitored, you said so-” She began.

“Trust me Rem, no one is watching it now.” He insisted, pressing his lips against her forehead and heading to the door at a brisk pace.

She watched him, “I love you, Draco.” She said softly.

He looked back at her just before opening the door. “You too, Rem.”

And she was left, naked and alone in Draco Malfoy’s bedroom. Though, really, they could rent that space out as an apartment and charge a pretty hefty price for it, too.

She climbed out of the ridiculously large bed to begin the hunt for all of her clothes, peering around the room as she did.

It must have only been shortly after dawn, the light that came in from all of the windows still had a soft pink glow. The room looked even more impressive now than it did the previous night, and she momentarily contemplated how much trouble she’d be in if she stayed. Considering the urgency with which Draco left, a _very, very_ large amount of trouble.

After she’d dressed herself, she stepped up to the impressive fireplace and took a handful of Floo powder from an ornamental pot on the ledge above it before stepping straight into the flames, tossing the powder to the ground.

“Alvers’ residence.”

**=+=+=+=**

Draco tried to pretend he couldn’t decipher the look his father was giving him. “What’s going on?”

Lucius completely ignored his son’s inquiry. “Is the girl gone?”

“Remington.” Draco reiterated for him. “Yes.”

“It’d be best if you didn’t name names right now, Draco.” Lucius pressed, “Put up your guards now.”

The first person to sweep into the drawing room with them was none other than Severus Snape, and he looked even more unhappy than usual.

“We have a few moments.” Snape said, heading straight for Draco, “You believed they wouldn’t notice someone travelling from the Malfoy Mannor via Floo?” He had gone to grab Draco’s shoulder, but the blonde had stepped back to avoid his touch.

“I couldn’t just leave her in my room.” Draco argued.

“You shouldn’t have let her stay the night at all!” He snapped. “You knew perfectly well you would be summoned soon-”

“Well I bloody apologize for wanting to see my fiancé during the two weeks out of that hellhole of a school you run.” Draco shot back.

“Don’t dare forget that you’re speaking to your _fiancé’s_ legal guardian, Draco.” Snape hissed. In one fluid movement, the man had given a sharp flick of his wand, casting a silencing spell on Draco, and pivoted to face the doors, which almost immediately opened to admit a slew of Death Eaters, and Luna Lovegood in tow. A couple of the Death Eaters looked particularly worse for wear, and Luna was sporting a black eye. Draco felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Take the girl downstairs, Narcissa.” Lucius said softly. Draco’s mother strode across the room and seized the young blonde’s arm, leading her towards the door to the cellar. Usually she avoided being in the presence of these meetings anyway.

What followed may have been more bearable than many of the meetings Draco had attended. Usually, the Malfoys’ ended up with the short end of the stick and received either mocking, or unwanted attention. Today, though, the Dark Lord’s wrath seemed very singularly focused on the Death Eaters that Draco had noticed were already looking somewhat battered. From the way it sounded, Luna had managed to escape her captors. That was why she was not in the Manor immediately proceeding the train ride home. It’d taken them a couple days to catch her again, and those who had lost her were paying a heavy price.

The whole ordeal was rather short-lived, before the Dark Lord made himself scarce and the Death Eaters began to trickle off themselves.

Normally, that would have been a relief. The Malfoys were ignored for once. However, that wasn’t _entirely_ true. For Alecto Carrow had her eyes narrowed in on Draco through most of the encounter. And he knew exactly why. If Snape knew about Remington leaving Draco’s room, he could damn well be sure Alecto knew as well.

And that was just as frightening as it was infuriating.

He’d hoped to leave the drawing room as quickly as possible to avoid any scrutiny from Snape, Alecto, or Bellatrix, but it seemed the world was dead set against him that day in particular.

“The Malfoys are just sinking lower and lower, hm?” It was the Carrow woman, and it was everything Draco had to not turn on her with his wand raised. Instead, he managed to face her coldly. “Shagging blood traitors?”

“Don’t you dare say a word about my sex life in my own house.” Draco forced out sharply, glaring with pure venom. “Who I deign to bring to bed isn’t your concern.”

Alecto said nothing, but looked very much like she’d gotten her point across. “I suppose your reputation is irreparably bruised already, anyhow.” She remarked, turning to walk away, leaving Draco fuming.

Being how new he was to the ranks, he really shouldn’t have spoken to her in such a way. He really didn’t think he could achieve any greater level of civility towards the woman, however. Not after the things she’d done to Remington.

He hardly had time to recover from the run-in with Alecto before Bellatrix’s hand had come down on his shoulder. _Everyone_ seemed keen on reprimanding him today.

“I think we need to have a talk, Draco.”

He may have had a spark to talk back to Alecto, but he knew better than to test Aunt Bella. He shifted to look at her as she watched the last couple Death Eaters file out of the drawing room and leave just the two of them and Lucius, who had his own eyes on Bellatrix.

“This affair with the Alvers girl needs to stop.” She said, looking at him down her nose. “You’re mudding up the family name and if this continues any longer-”

“Bellatrix.” Lucius warned.

Her eyes flicked at him. “We can’t risk your wet-behind-the-ears son impregnating a blood traitor!” She snapped back.

“Draco is not naïve, Bellatrix.” Lucius shot back, not about to mention that the blood traitor would be a part of the family before long.

Draco felt not only irate that he was being spoken of as if he weren’t there, but also mildly embarrassed to have pretty much everyone talking about him sleeping with Remington, including his father. And Remington’s father figure.

This day was just getting better and goddamn better.

“He’s fucking a confirmed blood traitor, Lucius! That’s utter stupidity!” Bellatrix lashed out.

“This isn’t a conversation for you to have with _my_ son, Bellatrix!” Lucius returned, the anger apparent in his voice. “If anyone is going to tell Draco who he can and can’t bed, it’s going to be me, and not you!”

Seeming finally put out, Bellatrix stormed from the room. Draco looked at his father, at a loss for words. What do you say after that?

Lucius merely looked back at him for a moment before, “Last night better have been damn good.” And he turned and left the drawing room without another word.


	38. Incognito

Remington nearly tripped as she stepped out of the fireplace. She’d never really been the most graceful when it came to Floo. In fact, any sort of magical travel at all wasn’t really her forte.

After she’d gotten the ash and dust out of her eyes, she could see that she wasn’t in the right house at all. She felt overwhelmed as she looked around the living room. The rooms and walls were empty, but it was undeniably her home in the US. It felt so familiar, but so incredibly foreign at the same time, devoid of anything to suggest prior inhabitance.

Why did she get sent to this house? No Alvers resided there anymore, and as far as she knew, the house had been sold. From the looks of it, though, regardless of whether it had new owners, it was still left empty.

She walked across the living room, feeling the carpet beneath her shoes, which left dusty footprints behind her. It was remarkably cold in the house. Clearly, the furnace was long-since turned off, and it was the middle of winter in the Midwest.

When she was about halfway across the room, she heard a noise from the kitchen. Without any hesitation, she had her wand drawn and looked through the archway that lead towards the sound. It seemed the house may not be empty, after all.

She started to walk through the kitchen, ready for an attack, but none came. When she reached the far side of the room, a small movement caught her eye.

When she was little, Remington’s parents had put manual hook locks at the top of all of the doors following an episode of sleep walking. The little hook at the top of the basement door was swinging, letting her know that someone had just closed that door. She reached for the knob, then swung the door open, careful to catch it before it could slam into the wall, and held her wand out towards the steps, which were clear. But at the same time, a rush of warm air overcame her.

It was pretty obvious that someone was squatting in the basement of her old home.

If they were armed, she was sure to be vulnerable long before she’d be able to locate whoever it was. She felt a lot like that stupid character in horror movies who tries to ask who’s there when there’s a killer about to get them, but she said it anyway, “Who’s down there?” There was, of course, no answer. “You’re trespassing.”

“Who’s up there?” Finally came the sardonic response, followed by shushing.

Rem pursed her lips. There was most certainly someone squatting in the basement of her old home.

She let out a deep breath and started down the stairs slowly, and as quietly as she could. It was near silent as she descended. For a moment, she wondered if the perpetrators had Disaparated out of the basement, but there had been no tell-tale _pop_. Whoever they were, they were still down there, and at a perfect advantage to attack her. But no attack came.

She reached the bottom of the steps, her wand raised in defense, and turned to look towards the back of the basement. She could see the shadows of some figures, and a few wands pointed straight at her. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a family. Mother and father, a son that was younger, but taller than Rem, and a girl-

“ _Natalie_?” She breathed in disbelief.

Suddenly something clicked in the girl’s expression. “ _Remington_?!” She demanded.

“I thought you were dead!” Rem interjected.

Nat gave a dry smile, “Good.” She said, “That’s what we wanted.”

It finally occurred to Remington that not only was Nat’s whole family all in the basement together, but the black tomcat was there too. “You went into hiding.” She said in understanding.

“Yeah. Didn’t tell anyone. Left no sign we were alive.” She added, “Except for that letter.”

Rem gave her a searching look for a moment. “ _It’s a hoax_.” Natalie nodded. “You sent that to me. Why would you send that-?”

“I felt so bad, Rem! You were-” The blonde girl said, growing frustrated. She snatched Remington’s hands. “You’re my _best friend_ , Rem. And things ended so bad that summer, I didn’t want you to think-”

“You risked your safety to let me know?” She prompted.

“It really wasn’t that much of a risk-”

“Hogwarts is _run by Death Eaters now_.” Remington interrupted softly. “The headmaster is arguably You-Know-Who’s most trusted follower. My godfather. He called me to his office just so he could question me about this strange letter that was addressed to me.”

“But you didn’t give anything away, did you?” Natalie asked.

“Of course not, I didn’t even know what the hell the letter was.” She answered, “I’m just so bloody happy you’re alive.”

Nat smiled, but her eyes finally came to rest on her scar. She’d noticed the girl’s eyes flitting over it, but never really settling. “Rem,” She began, “I have to ask; what happened to you?”

“I was a little too outspoken and a little too reckless.” She answered. “The last things a blood traitor should be.”

Natalie looked wistful as she managed a tight smile. Her expression grew a bit confused for a moment. “Jewelry?” She stated, and Remington realized she was squeezing the fingers on her left hand. “You _never_ wore-” But Nat broke off when she looked down. “That’s an engagement ring.” She deadpanned.

Rem bit the inside of her cheek. “Yes…”

“Don’t tell me it’s that blonde brat-”

“Natalie.”

Nat’s eyes turned down, “You love him, really?” She inquired. “And he loves you?”

“Yes.”

Nat exhaled deeply. “Despite his father being… you know?”

“Natalie,” Rem began, “Draco’s a Death Eater also.”

The blonde’s expression fell into a mask of abhorrence.

“But it’s a complicated situation. He really had no choice, no matter what he would have chosen. And his family is quite aware that I’m a blood traitor.” Rem interjected quickly. “He’s changed a lot since you saw him. So’ve I.”

Natalie nodded, “Me too. You know, everyone thinks we’re dead. I had to break up with Joshua last year, and then we came here a while later-”

“Why did you come to my old house?” Rem asked, “Why would you think it was empty?”

“Your mother-” Nat began. The brunette gave her a dubious look. “She wrote a letter to my mom early last summer.”

“You’re joking.” Rem said.

“She said, ‘ _What’s mine will always be so, and what’s mine shall also be yours._ ’” Nat explained. “We assumed that she was hinting we should go into hiding. She sent it before the mail was being checked regularly-”

“Who would’ve thought my mother would be a damn poet.” Rem muttered. “Or help out Muggles- not to be rude-”

“I know, your mom was always a little uptight.” Natalie shrugged.

“No, my mother had a bloody stick up her ass for the majority of my seventeen years on this earth.”

Natalie rolled her eyes, then looked at Rem for a long moment. “Why are _you_ here?”

“It was an accident. I was trying to go home.” She elaborated. “But I didn’t quite make it to the _right_ home.”

“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you. We’ll have time to talk when things are better.” Nat said with a small smile that was part hope and part defeat. Things seemed to only be growing bleaker. Remington could only imagine how the American wizards felt. They didn’t have first-hand knowledge of Harry Potter. They heard rumors and stories, but who was to say they were true? Who was to say anything was true any longer? They hadn’t seen the things Harry had pulled himself through. They’d never seen Harry at all.

“There’s no way we’ll lose this war, Nat.” She said, squeezing her friend’s hands. “We’ve got numbers and heart on our side.”

“Be safe, Rems. I know it’s awfully rough over there where you are.” Natalie responded, throwing her arms around the shorter girl and giving her a rib-splintering hug.

**=+=+=+=**

She strode up to the front door turning the deadbolt, pushing it open and, inadvertently shoving the snow that blanketed the porch away from the doorway. It was chilly outside, but not much more so than it was inside. She stepped outside, folding her arms, wand in hand.

The neighborhood seemed abandoned. It was nearly silent, no lights shone in the windows of the sparse homes, and no cars drove by. Granted, it was roughly three or four in the morning, so it made sense that it seemed that way.

She decided in a fraction of a moment what she needed to do while she was there in her hometown. Gingerly stepping through the unplowed snow and closing the door behind her, she proceeded down the steps to the poorly shoveled sidewalk and began down the street. It was several blocks before she could see the large brick pillars and black metal gates that enclosed one of the two city cemeteries. She hadn’t seen the place since her father’s funeral. It had hurt so much then, to know he was in the ground there.

Remington had never asked her mother why they had buried him in America, rather than with the rest of the Alver family in England.

She marched through the nearly foot-deep snow to the stone she knew marked her father’s resting place. She never thought she’d be able to visit without breaking into hysterics, but she seemed fine so far. She crouched before the tombstone, resting a hand against the top of it.

_Timothy James Alvers  
Beloved husband and father._

“Dad,” She said to the rock, though she didn’t really feel like he was there at all. It was just a garden full of engraved rocks, and it didn’t remind her of her father in the least. Nonetheless, she continued. “Your hair would all be grey by now if you were still here. You always worried so much, and times now are so much worse than getting anxious over me being on the monkey bars or riding my broom without a helmet. I wonder what you think about the things I’m doing now. Dumbledore’s Army, me being a Prefect, being _engaged_ \- That’s the worst, Dad. I wish you could meet Draco and tell me how much a prick you think he is and say I deserve better.” She laughed, feeling that tingling in her throat and behind her eyelids. “But you’d know that I’m really happy, and you’d give us your blessing anyway, giving Draco shit the whole way through.” She wiped away tears with the sleeve of her sweater, before her eyelashes could freeze. “And you’d see me graduate from Hogwarts, like you and Mom did, and walk me down the aisle.” And then came the waterworks.

After she’d collected herself and was far too cold to remain outside any longer, she straightened herself up, pulled her hand away from the headstone, and took a final look at the marker of her father’s final resting place. The wreath that was placed next to the stone was a vast array of blues and yellows, something relatively multipurpose and therefore able to be left up year-long. It was charmed to always appear vivid and healthy, even in the bitter cold. However, it seemed utterly out of place in the Christmas season.

Rem gave an abbreviated flick of her wand, causing the wreath to change to a variety of evergreens, holly, poinsettias, and golden trim.  

And with a _pop_ she Disaparated.

**=+=+=+=**

This time, she landed in the right place. Her feet came in contact with the white-painted wooden porch in the front of her house. Her _current_ house. She reached to pull open the front door, only to find it was locked. She deftly pointed her wand at the lock, “ _Alohomora_ ,”

Nothing.

“ _Alohomora Duo,_ ”

Nothing.

“Dammit, Mother. _Liberare_.”

Yet, nothing.

Just as she was debating how much trouble she might get in for using _Bombarda_ on the door, the lock clicked and the door flew open, nearly smacking right into Remington.

Before she could even get a good look at who opened the door (which would obviously be her mother), the woman had caught Rem up in a crushing hug.

“Remington Kallisto Alvers, don’t you _ever_ dare worry me like that again.” Marissel said, sounding surprisingly choked up.

So that’s why the door was locked so thoroughly. Marissel hadn’t heard from her daughter, and was under the impression that she’d be home the night before, not in the early afternoon the next day.

“Mom,” Rem began, the word still seeming a bit foreign to her. She had called Marissel nothing more intimate than _Mother_ for the majority of her life. “I’m okay, don’t worry. Don’t you think I can take care of myself?”

Her mother finally backed off a bit, grasping Rem’s arms and bringing her inside. “I’m not worried of what you might do, Rem.” She said, closing the door. “I’m worried of what might happen to you.”

It was easy to see that Marissel’s guards had been slowly chipping away since they moved from America. She was able to keep a stone-cold façade while Remington was home with her over the summer, but being alone in a house, without her husband or only child broke her down to show Rem how much she really did care over that Christmas. And now, with the war looming ever closer, Marissel was fearing for the last family she had left, and Remington was very possibly in the epicenter of it all.

“I see what has already happened to you, Rem.” She added sadly, looking at the scar on the girl’s face.

“You haven’t said anything about it.” Remington remarked.

“I don’t want to know who did this to you,” Her mother replied, “I’m not sure if I’d be able to keep myself from hunting down the retch. And that would have dire consequences for the both of us.” Rem just looked into her mother’s face. They were very nearly the same height. “Come, there’s a letter for you.”


	39. The Light In The Dark

It was pitch dark in the cellar, as it always was. Luna could hardly make out the shape of her hand in front of her face. It got so utterly boring down there, with nothing to do and nothing to look at. Because of this, she spent a lot of time inside her head. Or she and Mister Ollivander would talk. She liked him very well, as he was an exceptionally bright man and good company.

Currently, she’d taken to humming some strange, erratic song. She couldn’t remember where she heard it, but had a feeling it might have been playing in Honeyduke’s once.

A dull glow caught her eye. Now, Luna had occasionally seen things in the dark before, but she knew very well that it was in her head. Well, other than the two Nargles that she saw some time ago. She had a hard time keeping track of the time that passed.

The light grew until she could tell it was a wand, and the face behind it was illuminated. With no more than that light, she could see the majority of the cellar’s interior, including Ollivander, who was sitting with his back against a pillar a few yards away. The man looked worn and beaten, defeated. His hair and clothing were dirty and disheveled. She was sure she didn’t look much better.

However, the face looking at her through the bars that kept them from the stairs leading out of the cellar was much different. Draco Malfoy looked as pristine as always, in a dark suit. His features were almost as broken as Ollivander’s, however. Only, his defeat was somewhere beneath the surface, hidden under his exterior of pride and strength.

She got to her feet just as he said her last name.

Draco knew he shouldn’t be down there. It would only add insult to injury, though, if he kept his knowledge of Luna’s imprisonment from Remington, and did nothing to acknowledge her presence at the manor.

“You know I can’t get you out of here.” He said. “We’d both be dead.” The airy girl had taken a few steps closer, and now only stood a few feet away. She clasped her hands in front of her. Even in a dank cellar, held as a prisoner, she still looked as off-in-space as she always did, with a dreamy look in her eyes. That look wasn’t the same now as it used to be. The lightness of her character was smudged by everything she’d been through, ever so slightly. “Remington doesn’t know.” He wasn’t exactly sure where the confession came from.

“I know.” She said, her voice soft and light. “You feel guilty. I can hear it, you know.”

Draco exhaled heavily through his nose. He’d always passed Luna off as ditzy and naïve, not to mention completely defenseless. It was obvious that she was none of those things, however. She’d fought in the battle of the Department of Mysteries and held her own. She took up her place as a right-hand in the D.A. She’d proven herself multiple times now, and it was clear that she was perceptive enough to see through Draco in a way that no one but Remington could.

“You’re right to not tell her. She’d try to do something and it wouldn’t end very well. She’ll be furious when she finds out, though.” Luna continued on.

“Of course she will.” Draco muttered. “ _Anger_ is her most familiar emotion.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Luna remarked gently.

“What _would_ you say, then?” He inquired, wondering what this sixth year girl would have to say to him about his own fiancé.

“Remington is a person of strong emotions.” She replied, “Happiness, excitement, pride, anger; she feels everything strongly. Sometimes she’s blinded by it.”

Draco merely looked at the blond girl for a couple moments, realizing just how much he’d underestimated her all those years. “You’re right, Lovegood.”

Luna merely smiled in return. “I’ll be okay down here, Draco. They don’t want anything from me, not like they did with poor Mr. Ollivander.”

He could tell that she was trying to make him feel like he didn’t have any fault in leaving her locked up in the cellar. In reality, he was sure that Luna knew there wasn’t any real way he could help her out, to begin with. They’d both be hunted down, then. It shocked him a bit that the idea of helping her to escape even occurred to him in the slightest. He also noticed how she said _them_ to refer to Death Eaters, as opposed to _you_ which would include himself.

“You know, Lovegood, maybe there’s a chance you aren’t so crazy, after all.”

She merely gave him a knowing smile before he headed back up the stairs.


	40. New Year's Eve

The formality in the room was positively suffocating. Not to mention, half the faces were new.

The ceiling stretched high above, carved ornately and painted an ivory white. The chandeliers kept the ballroom (as it could hardly be considered any _normal_ room) brightly lit. There were at least two dozen people milling about, standing in clustered groups, wandering to speak with others. They all appeared in their late teens, but for one woman. She had sable skin and remarkable cheekbones. Her dark hair was pulled from her face in a graceful updo that Remington couldn’t begin to fathom the workings of. This woman was clearly the mother of a certain Zabini Rem knew, despite how deceivingly young she looked.

“I was half-wondering if you’d make an appearance.” Came a cool voice. Remington glanced over to see Blaise wearing his usual attire of a suit. He had a stemmed glass in hand. She hadn’t a clue where he’d gotten it; there was no food or drink anywhere that she could see.

“Of course I came, Blaise. Since you so kindly sent me an invitation.” Remington said, twisting her hands together subtly. She felt like she needed something to hold on to.

“You clean up well, Alvers, as always.” He added, scanning the room as he took a sip from his glass.

“ _As always_?” She repeated, “You’ve seen me dress up what? Once?”

“Precisely. When you try, you succeed.” He said, shooting her a dry smile.

“Well, thanks, I guess.” She mumbled.

“You’re welcome, Alvers.” He responded.

“Are you just going to use my last name?” She inquired. “Uncomfortable with revealing how well we know each other?”

“I’m actually quite glad you’re here.” He disagreed. “My whole life my mother has believed that these stuffy prats were the closest I’ve had to friends- Bloody hell, knock it off Alvers.” He broke off when he realized that she’d rolled her eyes and started shaking her head condescendingly.

“So does that mean you admit I’m your friend?” She prompted.

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer after your behavior.” He snapped back and sauntered away.

She suddenly regretting being snappy, now that she was left alone. Draco hadn’t arrived yet, and she was genuinely wondering if he was coming.

Blaise had sent her an invitation about a week ago for a New Year’s Eve party. It was a formal event, with a flat lining party vibe.

She began to lose her concentration on the dark-varnished floorboards, but was quickly brought back to reality.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” The voice was smooth as satin and enchantingly rich. Remington believed that Ms. Zabini’s voice alone could have both woed and killed her seven husbands.

Rem’s head nearly snapped up to see the beautiful, intimidatingly tall woman before her. It was easy to see where Blaise got his height from. “No-” She began, offering up her right hand, which Ms. Zabini took with her own. Her fingers were long and slim, with delicately manicured nails. “Alvers, Remington.”

“Pleasure.” She said in return, “Nicolette Zabini. From what I hear, you’ve come in like a dark horse and swept my son off his feet.”

Remington nearly choked on the air she was breathing. “Blaise and I are good friends but-” She began quickly.

Nicolette merely smiled, “Only checking, dear.” She said smoothly, “I see the ring on your hand.” To what purpose she needed to check that, Rem couldn’t guess. “He is quite fond of you, however.”

“I would hope so,” Rem responded before thinking, “With the amount of time he spends around me.”

“Yes,” Nicolette said, “Pansy mentioned that Blaise seems to spend his free time in the company of you and one Draco Malfoy.” The name rolled off her tongue like barbed wire. The distaste for Draco was clear. Remington knew better than to ask about it.

“The three of us are very good friends.” She decided that was a polite enough answer.

“Well, I’m happy for Blaise.” Nicolette offered a small, but remarkably sincere smile, “Nice meeting you, dear.” And she swept away with all the grace her lithe body could hold.

Remington watched after her for a moment, wondering if she might have gotten some minor whiplash from that rollercoaster of a conversation. Her attention was whisked away when she noticed the doors to the ballroom open to admit none other than the violently blonde boy she’d just been speaking to Blaise’s mother about. It was already twenty minutes since the last person had walked in.

“About time, Malfoy.” Theodore Nott said from where he was talking with Daphne and Tracey.

“Kiss my ass, Nott.” Draco responded without missing a beat, making towards the other Slytherins. Rem hesitated only a moment before heading in that direction as well.

“Your poor girlfriend’s been quite lonely here on her own.” Theo remarked, hands in the pockets of his pants. Daphne was dressed in a long, shimmering grey gown, her hair in delicate, soft curls. Tracey was wearing a vividly blue dress that apparently also had pockets, and hand her hands hidden in them.

Draco gave Theodore a questioning look for a moment before he noticed Remington join the group. “What are you doing here?”

Tracey snorted in attempt to hold in a laugh.

“You know, I’m not sure. I have no idea who this Blaise bloke who invited me is-” Remington began. Tracey had her mouth covered, but looked clearly amused. Daphne gave her a quick wave and smile in greeting and Theodore gave her a light pat on the back as some way of saying hi and telling her not to be shy.

“I’m dating Hogwarts’ worst wiseass.” Draco deadpanned, though his eyes didn’t stray from Remington.

“Not happy to see me?” She pr8ompted.

“Quite the contrary, I need a word with you.” He said, crossing the circle and taking her arm to lead her away from the other Slytherins. Once he’d gotten her a couple yards off he came to a halt, turning to face her.

“Yes?” She questioned, drawing her arm away and clasping her hands in front of her.

“I wanted to tell you that you look stunning.” He moved her gaze to meet her own. That was the most outright he’d ever been in telling her how she looked. If she didn’t count the time he pretty much admitted to her that her hips drove him wild. Which she didn’t.

He hadn’t been expecting her to be there, as she’d never been to one of these events before. Parties put on by the Pureblood crowd. Draco had been to dozens of them at the Zabini’s home alone. But it more than made sense that Rem was here, since she was such good friends with Blaise. And him. And slowly becoming friends with Tracey, Theodore, Daphne, and _dare he think it_ , Pansy.

And here she was, wearing a dress for about the second time he’d ever seen. The first dress he’d seen her in was pretty, but it was clear that she knew she was catering to a different audience this time around. It was a dark blue, sophisticated thing, that covered one shoulder with a glittery, sheer piece of material, and left the other bare. The skin of her neck and exposed shoulder were unmarked, and he felt a compelling urge to change that.

“Who curled your hair?” He asked.

“My mother.” She responded, then smoothed her hands over her dress, “And she lent me this, too. She used to be even skinnier than she is now, if you can believe it.” She looked back up at him, her face still slightly flushed from the compliment. Words like those meant a lot coming from someone like Draco. “Why does Ms. Zabini dislike you so much?”

Draco turned a very charmingly bright shade of pink and looked away. He caught sight of Blaise walking towards them, who smirked.

“Yeah, Malfoy,” He said, “Why does my mother dislike you so much?”

“Piss off, Zabini.” Draco snapped, still blushing.

“Oh, I have to hear this.” Rem said, grinning.

“You see, the last time I had a New Years Eve party-” Blaise began.

“Shut it, you’ll make it sound worse.” Draco cut across him, then turned his attention back on Rem. “It was the year you moved here, over the holidays-”

“Draco managed to get extraordinarily drunk, break a window in our guest house-” Blaise continued.

Draco hit the other boy in the chest with his fist, more to get him to stop talking than anything else, “And I may or may not have said something very inappropriate by way of hitting on Blaise’s mother.”

Remington started laughing so hard that she actually leaned on Blaise for support. “What did you _say_ to the poor woman?”

“I can’t remember.” Draco replied tersely, still looking quite embarrassed.

“I remember, but I refuse to repeat it.” Blaise stated, “Since those words were used towards my _mother_.”

Remington looked between the two boys, “I’m going to ask Nott-”

“The _fuck_ you are,” Draco seized her around the waist before she even made it two feet away.

“Let her go, Draco, she can know-” Blaise began to object, obviously very amused.

“You know the stupid things I say when I’m soused,” Draco argued, “She _doesn’t need to know_.”

“Oi, Nott!” Remington said, loudly enough for him to hear. Thoedore looked over to see what was probably quite a comical scene. Draco clapped a hand over her mouth and turned her back so he was between her and Theo.

“Let her go.” Blaise said, hands on his hips.

Draco glared at him for a moment until Remington stuck her tongue out and licked his palm. Then he released her quite fervently to wipe his hand on his pants leg and shoot her a nasty look.

“It can’t be that bad, Draco.” She assured him.

“He just doesn’t want you to know how raunchy he really is.” Blaise remarked. Theodore was on his way over.

“I’ve been dating the guy for how long now,” Rem commented, “I think that’s the least of it-”

“What’d you want me for?” Theo asked. Draco had his arms crossed in a way that was oddly reminiscent of a pouty toddler.

“Alvers wants to know what Malfoy said to piss my mother off.” Blaise said.

Theo coughed to hide a laugh, “Something about how fit her legs were and how much she’d like him between them.”

Draco had flushed again, and Remington laughed. “Aren’t you the charmer, Draco.”

“She pretty much literally threw him out after that.” Theo continued.

“And that’s why Malfoy doesn’t drink like he used to.” Blaise added on.

“Well it kind of loses its appeal after you start trying to bed your best mate’s mum.” Draco snapped sullenly.

“And you’re telling _me_ this, you git.” Blaise joked sarcastically.

“Mind if I head to the guest house, Zabini?” Theodore asked.

“Go for it, Nott.” Blaise nodded slightly, “It’s about time we livened the party a bit.”


	41. Rampant

And liven the party did indeed. The crowd eventually moved in entirety out to the guest house. The majority were Hogwarts students, mainly Slytherins, with a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. There were also two boys and a girl from Durmstrang, and also a couple kids from Beauxbatons. Nearly all of them dove straight into the alcohol Blaise had stored in the kitchen cabinets. Remington was just glad to get her hands on a glass of water.

Rem made her way back into the kitchen, half because she’d already drank her water, and half to escape the wild half-drunk teenagers in the living room who had just suggested a game of spin the bottle with a freshly emptied wine bottle. As if they were still second years. A certain dark-haired girl was in the kitchen already, looking through the impressive collection of booze.

Pansy looked up at her as she went to the sink, refilling her glass. “You look very nice, Alvers.” She said after a few moments of moderately awkward silence, selecting a bottle and leaning back on the counter.

Rem turned around, notably surprised, and settled back against the edge of the sink. “You look really pretty, too Pansy.” She returned, even more shocked that she meant it.

Pansy’s facial features had matured a lot over the last couple years, and that’s not to say that Pansy didn’t also know how to use her makeup to the best of its abilities. She had exceptionally bright blue eyes and cheekbones any girl would be proud of. Even if her nose turned up a bit more than desired and her eyes were an odd distance apart, Pansy was by no means an inherently ugly person. And tonight her hair was elegantly curled and pinned up, and her deep emerald dress really did suit her.

Pansy smiled, a true, genuine smile. Remington wondered just exactly how much the girl had had to drink. “Congratulations.” Rem gave her a confused look. “When’s the wedding?”

Then it occurred to her, Pansy had noticed the ring on her hand. “Not for a while.” She replied.

“I hope you have good-looking groomsmen for me to ogle.” Pansy said, taking a drink from her glass. “You’re not bad, Alvers. I just didn’t like you taking Draco’s attention, and it took me too long to move on. Then I couldn’t be nice to you because it was _you_ and I was supposed to hate you, and we couldn’t be friends-”

Clearly, Pansy had had quite a lot to drink. “Pansy, it’s alright.”

The girl stopped rambling and looked back up at Remington. “But I’m not going to be nice to you, because I don’t know how. So don’t expect it. But I want you to know you’re not bad. Rem.”

“I know you really cared a lot about Draco.” Rem said, “And you still do, and Pansy, you’re not really bad, either.”

The other girl just looked at her for a long moment, then nodded and took another drink from the glass she had placed on the counter prior to rifling through the cabinets.

The tender moment was very abruptly ruined by a loud thump, followed by shouting coming from the living room.

“Oh, good God-” Remington began, moving past the counter, and Pansy, who looked very much like she was hoping there would be something exciting going on in the other room.

The scene Rem walked into was that of one of the Durmstrang boys pinned behind the couch after apparently having fallen back there, and Theodore and the Durmstrang girl were trying to pull him out by an arm and a leg.

“If you break anything, my mother will have your head.” Blaise snapped irritably.

The Beauxbaton boy merely grinned, “I’d rather enjoy that.” He shrunk away when Blaise turned an absolutely _murderous_ look on him.

“Well, I must say I’m glad it’s not Draco this time.” Remington remarked, starting to cross the room so she could help her drunken classmate fish the boy out from behind the couch.

However, as she went to pass the chair Draco was seated in, he grabbed her about the waist and pulled her down onto his lap. She fell quite ungracefully, and could almost swear she must’ve hurt him somehow, but he only wrapped his arms tighter around her.

“Is that so, sweetheart?” He breathed into her ear.

“Draco, how much alcohol have you had?” She asked..

“A little.” He replied, his lips brushing her neck.

“As in a little too much?” She questioned.

“Forgive me for wanting to assert the fact that you are in fact _mine_ and-”

“Oh, so you’re marking your territory, I _see-_ ” She started trying to get up.

“And I’m the lucky bastard who gets to share a bed with you for the rest of my life.” He said, tightening his grip on her.

“Not yet you don’t.”

He finally released her, allowing her to stand up and look back down on him. The battle of pulling the Durmstrang boy from the couch was nearly won behind her, and no one was paying attention to the two bickering teens. Draco looked up at her with something in his eyes that she’d seen plenty of times before.

“I’m getting away from this circus.” She told him, striding out of the living room and heading up the stairs.

Blaise’s guest house was larger than her own home. It was the main reason that the majority of the pureblood parties were held at the Zabini residence. All the rowdy kids could go off to a completely different house, so as to not disturb the parents, and there were plenty of bedrooms to house the drunken teenagers. Arguably, that would make it the worst place for these parties. No adult supervision, whatsoever.

Clearly, the parents were either unaware, or unconcerned.

Rem walked to the far end of the upstairs hall, to leave the closest bedrooms to those who would have trouble making up the stairs.

On her way, she passed a room that had the door open, and a light on inside. Remington peered in for a moment to see Daphne Greengrass sitting up in bed with a book.

“Hey Remington.” She said softly.

Rem debated for a second before stepping into the room.

“Had enough of those animals?” Daphne asked with a soft smile.

“Actually, yes.” Remington replied. The blonde girl patted the end of the bed, inviting Rem to sit with her, which she did somewhat hesitantly.

“I don’t blame you, they’re kind of a lot to handle sometimes.” She said. “I hope they haven’t scared you off too badly.”

“No, I think I can manage some unruly teenagers.” Rem murmured.

“Has Draco broken anything yet?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s a shock.” Daphne gave a light laugh. She looked at Rem for a second. “You’re good for him.” She remarked, “I know we haven’t really spoken much or anything, but it’s plain to see how he’s changed since you guys got together.”

“Thanks,” Rem said, feeling a smidge awkward. “Daphne.”

“And if you ever want to hear embarrassing stories of when Draco was little, me, Tracey, and Theo have _tons_.” She added.

Remington laughed, “I don’t doubt for one second that Draco was the little kid who pouted and threw tantrums every chance he got.”

“You have no idea!” Daphne said, getting excited, “There was one time that we went to get ice cream at Florean’s when we were what, six? And Tracey’s birthday was in two days or something of that type, so I let her go before me, and Draco threw _the_ biggest fit a six year old could possibly- screaming and foot stamping and the whole thing.” Both of the girls were laughing by the end of the story. “We were all very happy when he finally grew out of that.”

“I’m not sure I’d say he grew out of pouting and tantrums.” Rem remarked.

“No?” Daphne laughed, “That doesn’t surprise me much.”


	42. Sins And Sobriquets

“Rem?”  The voice pulled her back from near-sleep.

“Yeah?” She responded, her voice coming out lower and rougher than she expected. Perhaps she was more asleep than she had thought.

“Had to make sure it was you.” He breathed from somewhere by the door. The lights were out, so she couldn’t see.

“I was asleep.” She complained.

“Sorry, I needed to make sure I didn’t accidentally climb in bed with Greengrass or-” There was a loud thump. “ _Fuck_.”

“Don’t hurt yourself in your drunken state, now.” She said blandly.

“Too late.” He muttered, his voice closer now. “And I’m not drunk. I’m a little buzzed, but I’m not drunk.”

“You sound pretty intoxicated.” She argued.

“And you sound pretty fucking sexy, is what you sound like-” And now she could feel him crawling across the bed.

“Draco Lucius, don’t even start-”

“Why not, Remington Kallisto?” He murmured, his lips at her ear suddenly. “Why not start?” He pressed a kiss just under her ear.

“Because we are in our best friend’s guest house, a bed that’s not ours, with lots of people-”

“Most of which are too far gone to remember if they hear anything, anyways-”

“And you?”

“ _I’m not drunk!_ ”

She hummed something noncommittal and rolled onto her side, her back to him. She felt him move on the bed behind her, attempt to join her beneath the covers. But it was a rather pathetic attempt for someone as collected as Draco. After a few more moments of letting him wrestle with the layers of blankets and curse aloud a couple times, she reached back and seized the covers, pulling them away for him. He settled in beside her, and promptly buried his face in the crook of her neck. She felt his hand brush down her side as he kissed her throat. He paused.

“Remington, you’re not wearing anything-”

“I am too-” She began.

“Knickers don’t count,” He argued, “This’ll be easier than I thought.”

“Malfoy-” She said warningly.

“That’ll be your name too, soon.” He murmured, lips still against her neck. “Imagine that- Remington Malfoy. Remington Kallisto Malfoy- Missus-”

“I get it, Draco.” She interrupted, turning her head slightly. “I got it the first time.”

“I’m just excited, is all.” He said, pulling her back against him, “And you’ll always be at the Manor, and we won’t have to be away for weeks like now.”

“You really think you could tolerate my stubborn nature without any breaks?” She prompted.

“As long as we can work things out in my bed-” She snorted and scooted away, but he merely took her by the arm and hovered over her, “Don’t tell me you don’t like the way that sounds.”

She glared up at him the best she could being that it was too dark to see his face anyway. “You come in here and wake me up, and then proceed to _keep_ me up and hold me hostage-” She began, but he’d started to laugh. “ _What_ is it you blithering-”

“You weren’t asleep and we both know it, and _hostage_ , Alvers? Really? You’re in the perfect position to incapacitate me right now and don’t act like you don’t know it.” In fact, she could very easily knee him where it counts. “And that _does_ _not_ mean you should try it.”

“Of course not, I’m very keen on making sure we can have children.”

“You don’t even _like_ children, Alvers.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” She said, “Why don’t we make like the Weasleys’ and have a whole houseful.”

He made a derisive noise at first, then saw an opening in his argument. “If that’s the case, Alvers, why don’t we get started now?” She felt his hand trailing suspiciously close to her underwear.

“Or-” She began, chastisement in her tone as she shifted away from his touch, “We can wait until after we’re married, like good, respectable young people-”

“Good?” He inquired, “Respectable? Remington, you broke into the _Ministry of Magic_ in fifth year. You’re in Dumbledore’s Army, which has been against school rules in two instances and is currently _very illegal_.”

“I consider both good. And respectable.” She remarked.

“Okay, what about me, Alvers?” He commented.

“What _about_ you?” She pressed.

“I’m a Death Eater. Is that good or respectable?” He urged.

“Draco-”

“I plotted the death of our headmaster, what about that?”

“Draco, stop it.” She reached up, pressing a hand to the side of his face, “I was only teasing, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you didn’t,” He said, “I’m just saying that _good_ and _respectable_ hardly matter anymore.”

“Oh, I see.” She said, retracting her hand. “Premarital sex is no big deal.”

“Now you’ve got it.” His breath was right at her ear.

“You could _really_ use some work on subtlety, Malfoy.” She mentioned.

“And you on manners-” He fired back, “I can _feel_ you rolling your eyes, Alvers.”

“My manners are impeccable.”

“I call bullshit, Alvers.” His mouth found her throat again, this time mercilessly.

“And what of yours?” She argued, keeping her voice as steady as she could.

He noted the slight change in pitch of her speaking tone, “I’m a Slytherin, Alvers,” He began, now leaning his body against hers, “A _Malfoy_ , no less. I of all people know manners.”

“And what’s this?” She implored, tipping her chin away from him.

“Seduction at its finest.”

She laughed aloud at that, but certainly couldn’t bring herself to argue.


	43. Secrets Safe

Snape didn’t bother to leave her any time to get comfortable back in the castle. She was assigned to do patrols the first night back from the holiday break. Her mother had been reluctant to let her leave home, after the state she’d returned in only a couple weeks prior, but there was nothing to be done. Remington had no choice but to go back to Hogwarts. In all honesty, she wanted to go back. Already, she missed her friends. And she had underclassmen to protect.

She was off somewhere in her mind when something caught her eye. There was a knut on the floor, and she saw it from the corner of her eye as she passed the History of Magic classroom. However, with a couple steps closer it was obvious that the spot on the floor was not a _thing_ at all. It was a drop. She brought her wand to it, lit. Of course, she could’ve already guessed, it was blood.

She straightened up, looking about the corridor for more spots. They lead off in both directions. Remington couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed them sooner. One direction led down the stairs, the other down the hall.

She started towards the latter trail, following it with her wand still glowing faintly. It lead into the boys’ lavatory, but Remington could hardly care less about whether she was supposed to enter or not. If there was some third year hurt from the Carrow’s wrath, she needed to be there to help. She pushed open the door, able to hear the sound of a sink running. She was still tracking the drops, until she saw that they ended with a figure leaned up against the wall beside the sinks. In the dim, Rem could see that the figure’s clothes were sliced in several places, and there were copious amounts of blood. The sink they were nearest to was on. They must have tried to clean up, and passed out from blood loss.

She crouched down, pulling the person’s face up by the chin.

“Oh, Neville.” She breathed as he stirred. She was somewhat glad it was him, and not an underclassman. Rem knew he was strong enough to handle this. And she was able to fix him up. But she didn’t like seeing him in such a broken state.

The boy’s automatic response was to fight, but he was so weak and confused from the lack of adequate blood that Remington merely brushed his poorly-aimed strike away. “Just wait.” She mumbled, lifting up her wand.

Clearly, he still couldn’t tell that she was friendly, because he tried one more pitiful swing at her. She merely seized his wrist. “Stop that.” She said, focusing to try to cast a couple healing charms to stop him from losing any more blood. It was difficult; she could hardly see where his wounds were in the dark.

After she’d done what she could, she looked back up to see him staring mutely at her, and his hand was tightly grasping her own.

“Alright?” She asked. He nodded. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” She already knew why he was in there, instead of with the D.A. or in the hospital wing. He wouldn’t’ve wanted anyone to see him like this. He wasn’t stupid, but he knew he was a leader for the D.A. If they saw him so beaten, what hope would they feel for themselves?

“Carrows.” He answered in a rough and scratchy voice, releasing her hand. “What else?”

“Be thankful that I was patrolling tonight, Neville.” She said dropping from a squatting position to sit on the floor across from him. “I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to be your mother,” She said, “But I think you need to be more careful.”

“I’ve never had a mother like that, you know.” He said it in a way that almost seemed offhand.

She’d entirely forgotten about Neville’s story. She felt a wave of shame for mentioning it, but then realized he probably didn’t even know she was aware. “I know, Neville.”

“How’d you find out?”

“The newspaper. After a bunch of the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban.” She answered

He didn’t say anything at first. “You lost your father, too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a car accident. And werewolves.” She stated.

“You know, sometimes I’d wonder, if it’d hurt less if they hadn’t made it.” He said quietly. “Instead of having to see them the way they are now. They don’t even know I’m their son.”

She wanted to reach out to him and hold him. To wrap him in a hug and offer whatever comfort she was capable of. What he spoke of was something she couldn’t imagine. She took his hands in hers. “Neville, you can’t change things, so there’s no use wondering. You love them, don’t you?” He nodded. “And if they knew the things you’d done and the man you’ve become, they would be so proud, Neville. I’m proud of you, too.” She added softly. She was. She was very proud that the meek boy she met years ago had turned into someone who stood their ground and fought for what they believed in.

“Thanks, Rem.” He murmured. “You’re one of my best friends.”

“Same for you, Neville.” She replied gently.

She felt his thumb brush over her finger and realized he was looking down at her hand. At the ring. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Neither of them said a word.

After a couple moments, Neville spoke up. “I’m sorry that I’m rude sometimes.” He said, “I just don’t like Malfoy.”

Rem nodded, “I could tell.” She remarked sarcastically. “Are you feeling better yet?”

“Loads.” He responded, “Lucky it was Hogwarts’ best Charms student who found me.”

“That’s a lie.” She rolled her eyes, “And healing charms aren’t my forte.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that, with how good of a blood replenishing spell you cast.”

“Oh, come on you goon.” She said, standing up and reaching a hand down to help him up. “I don’t know what you think you’re buttering me up for.” Neville attempted to stand without taking her hand, but only straightened up about halfway before nearly toppling back down to the floor and grabbing ahold of her arm. “You’re alright.” She murmured, guiding him to hold on to the sink instead as she leaned back against the sink beside his. He seemed a little worn by that movement alone, and she could tell he was favoring his left leg. There was only so much she could help with. Besides, if the Carrows saw him looking unscathed the next day, they’d know something was up.

“You can’t tell Ginny.” He said after he’d caught his breath.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, don’t worry.”

“Thanks.”

Remington nodded slowly. “We should get you back up to the seventh floor.”

“ _We_?”

“You think I’m going to let you traipse up those stairs by yourself after I saw you struggle to your own feet?”


	44. Sweet Slytherins

She’d gotten into a habit of clasping her hands together in a way that hid the ring. Which, of course, was no less suspicious, but she did it anyway. It’d been three days. Three days of subconsciously hiding the engagement ring. Three days of borderline-avoiding any of her friends who weren’t Slytherin. No one else had noticed the ring yet. Neville hadn’t said anything, though he had given her a couple pointed looks when he’d started noticing her keeping her left hand out of view.

“You have to tell them sometime.” He remarked one night after the first D.A. meeting following the Christmas holidays. “Fay’ll notice before long and she’ll raise holy hell that you didn’t say anything.”

“I know.” Rem responded under her breath as they started down the corridor, away from the Room of Requirement. The kids who didn’t stay in the room had already headed back to their dorms, and Neville had stepped out, assumedly to talk to her on this issue. “But pray tell, how do I say anything without her raising holy hell in the first place?”

“Break it to her gently.” He suggested quietly. She looked at him in a way that was completely unamused. “Very gently.”

She merely rolled her eyes. There was something about their friendship that was deeper now, after the incident in the boy’s lavatory. She supposed it was quite a step for any friendship when one finds the other bleeding and half-unconscious on the bathroom floor. Speaking of, Neville’s limp was now nearly unnoticeable, and his blackened eye was no longer swollen or puffy.

“I’ll catch hell over this regardless. It’ll be like when I first started seeing Draco all over again.” She muttered.

“I’m sorry, what will?” Draco’s cool voice cut through their hushed conversation at full volume.

Neville whirled on the sound, ready for a fight, though he reluctantly relaxed when he realized where it came from.

“When everyone finds out about-” She broke off, raising her left hand and wiggling her fingers. The dim lighting from the windows caught and glinted from the ring.

“But he knows?” Draco jerked his chin at Neville, who bristled. The tension between the two boys was palpable.

“Yes, and in case you’ve forgotten, _he_ is Neville.” Rem replied.

“I’d never forget _Longbottom_ , no matter how dull his character-”

“ _Draco_.” She hissed warningly.

“Nor could I forget what a pretentious ass you are, Malfoy.” Neville chipped in.

“Watch yourself, Longbottom.” Draco growled.

“Or what? You gonna hex me like the other Death Eaters?”

“ _Hey_!” Rem snapped, “Why don’t you both shut up and act like adults, yeah?” She glared between the two. She would’ve expected better of Neville, but Draco had behaved reasonably well, taking into account his performance last time the two boys confronted each other.

“Right,” Draco said rather agreeably, “I’ll walk you to Gryffindor Tower, Rem.”

“You’re on patrols, Draco-” Remington began to object

“I was heading that way anyway.” He insisted, though his eyes were locked with Neville’s still.

She pursed her lips, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to let him walk with her. She looked over at Neville, who was also glaring back at Draco.

 _Men_.

“Goodnight, Neville.” She said, starting in the direction of the tower.

“G’night, Rems.” He returned, using one of the nicknames that the twins always called her by, before heading back towards the Room of Requirement.

Draco reached out, clasping her hand in his as they started down the corridor, which seemed a little out of character, but she didn’t say anything.

“I’m glad you didn’t get too nasty with Neville.” She said once they were well out of earshot, even though Neville was inside the Room anyway.

“He’s not the one with a ring on your finger.” Draco remarked after a second.

“Why do you talk about it like it’s a competition?” She prompted, “Neville is a good friend. You’re my fiancé, and that’s that. Why-”

“Ask him.” He said, “Ask him why it bothers him so much.”

“He doesn’t like you, that’s why.” She replied.

“And you think that’s all it is?” He pressed, “You think he’s so irate purely because he doesn’t like me?”

“Yes.” She responded without hesitation. “Why are you so convinced there’s something more?”

Draco ground to a halt. They were within earshot of the fat lady now, but he stopped with only a few yards to go nonetheless. “Alvers, you’re clever, strong-willed, an exceptionally talented witch, and implausibly attractive. I’m not sure if I’d believe any man who claimed to not fancy you.”

She stared at him for a moment, not really sure what to say, “What about Blaise?”

Draco’s brows arched, and he looked like he found her remark quite laughable. “Blaise respects me, whether you believe it or not. Longbottom, however, doesn’t, and nor do I particularly respect him.”

She mulled that over for a moment, but before she could say anything more, he stepped forward and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, “Goodnight, Remington.”

“You too, Draco.” She caught him before he could move away and returned a short kiss before heading up the last flight of stairs to the portrait of the fat lady.

She was about to voice the password when the painting spoke up, “My, that was almost sweet.” The fat lady remarked, “What’s gotten into that Slytherin?”


	45. Drama Queen

“I am not here.” Remington said, sliding onto the bench at the Slytherin table as inconspicuously as she could manage with her red and gold trimmed jumper.

“What are you doing, Alvers?” Blaise demanded as she took the seat next to him.

“More like who are you hiding from?” Tracey reiterated from across the table, stabbing her eggs.

“Fay found out about the ring.” Rem said under her breath. “I ran out before she finished brushing her teeth. She’ll be after me in a couple seconds.” Draco merely rolled his eyes from her other side.

Sure enough, the brunette Gryffindor – the one other than Remington – strode through the doors to the Great Hall in a matter of two fractions of a second. Rem ducked behind Blaise, pressing herself into his side.

“Oi, get off me, Alvers.” He scooted away. She smacked him in the arm.

“That wasn’t subtle at all.” Theo remarked from his own spot next to Tracey.

“Oh no,” Remington squeaked as Fay started to march over to them. However, when she started sliding off the bench and under the table, Draco grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back up.

“No, Alvers, you get to face this one.”

Fay hadn’t had time to put her robes on over her uniform, and was carrying them in her hand, only to use them to _thwap_ Remington on the back once she came into range. Not that it hurt at all, but Rem was still a little surprised.

“Hey!” Rem said, standing up at the table. Draco had a hand against her leg, but was watching Fay.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fay demanded, “We’re supposed to be best friends, and you waited for me to notice on my own! And Ginny, too!” She reeled up to hit Rem with her robes again, but Draco caught them mid-swing and yanked them from the girl’s hands. Fay hardly seemed to notice, thrusting her hands onto her hips.

“Because I knew you’d act like this!” Remington gestured to her friend. Somewhere behind her Tracey must’ve made some humorous comment because her and Theo were laughing.

“Like what? Offended?” Fay prompted.

“No, totally _fly off the handle_.” Rem retorted.

“Well, how do you suppose Ginny’ll react?” Fay objected.

“Maybe the cold shoulder for a day or two, not go berserk.”

“And Neville?” Fay was determined to justify her behavior.

“Longbottom knows already.” Draco muttered.

“Oh, so you told Neville and not me.” Fay crossed her arms.

Remington rolled her eyes, “He noticed the ring long before you did.” She sat back down and reached towards the platter of pastries.

“You’re drawing attention.” Draco commented.

Fay glanced up to see the vast majority of the Hall staring at her. Including the Carrow twins and Snape. She hastily stepped over and sat on the bench next to Rem. Blaise scooted down a little further than necessary and took on an irritated look.

“Look, I just wish you’d told me sooner, you know, yourself-” Fay started.

“Honestly, I’m wondering what I’ll tell the three that are missing-” Rem mumbled under her breath.

“You think they won’t already have a good idea?” Fay prompted, Remington shrugged. “I’m actually not sure why I was that surprised in the first place.”

“Because you’re an absolute drama queen.” Rem suggested.

“No, I am not!” Fay argued.

“Do you want me to list examples?” Rem offered. Fay said nothing.


	46. Liar, Liar

He saw it. Draco knew that Amycus had caught sight of the ring on Remington’s finger. After the show Fay put on the day before, it was only a matter of how long before the Carrow twins found out about Rem – and not just about her and Draco’s relationship, but their engagement, as well.

In Dark Arts class that day, the more masculine of the twins (barely so), told Draco to stay behind. Remington had cast him a look before she left the room with the other students. Draco knew that look well, and he was almost dead certain that Rem was listening in as Amycus folded his arms at the front of the room.

What Draco didn’t know was that Remington had much more class than to simply sit outside the room and press an ear to the door. Oh, no, she wasn’t going to stoop that low.

She leaned back against the arch over the doorway, already having cast a revealing spell that allowed her to see through the door and into the room without the occupants being able to see her.

“It seems that Miss Alvers has come into the possession of a certain item undoubtedly belonging to the Malfoy family.” Amycus began. Draco said nothing, glowering in his usual way. “Of course, I can’t imagine that she would have been _given_ such an item. If you’d like, I could arrange for it to be returned tonight.” His eyes showed everything he knew. There was a smirk right beneath the surface as Draco spoke.

“That won’t be necessary, Amycus.” Draco replied tersely.

“Oh?” The man said, uncrossing his arms and walking around behind his desk before looking back at Draco. “Do you intend to take it from her yourself?”

“Stop playing, Amycus. You and I both know why Remington has my engagement ring.” Draco snapped.

“Does the Black family tree have another face to burn off the list?” The older man sneered.

“No, but the Carrow family might have a new headstone to carve if you don’t piss off.” The blonde hissed. “Don’t act as though you know all the details of mine and Remington’s engagement, because you don’t know half of it.”

“Care to enlighten me, Draco?” Amycus prompted.

“You know how much wealth her family holds, do you not?” Draco started. Amycus said nothing, looking on in interest. “And the bloodlines she has. She comes from not only the Alvers and Orpington families, but is the last pure, extant line of the Prince family.”

“And a bloodtraitor.” Amycus added.

“An intelligent, talented witch.” Draco amended, praying Rem would forgive him for everything he said. “And hopelessly in love with me.” Amycus looked most unimpressed. “There’s nothing Remington would not do for me.”

“So you think you can change her alliances?” Amycus inquired.

“She’d follow me _anywhere_ , nonetheless change her alliances. I just haven’t asked her yet.” Draco responded.

Amycus strummed his fingers on the desk. “We’ll see about that, Draco, and I’ll be the one to judge whether you’re a liar.”

Draco turned to head to the door and Remington undid her spell and darted to an alcove as fast as she could.

She heard footsteps leave the room and enter the corridor, moving at a brisk pace, and for a moment, she assumed that Draco was, perhaps, not going to stop at all. Then a shadow crossed the entrance of the alcove and he was there with her.

“Silencing spell?” She inquired of his soundless approach.

“You’re not the only one who can cast charms, Remington.” He said in a hushed tone, proceeding to lay a muffling charm over the alcove.

She looked him straight in the eye for a moment.

“It’s really not good that I knew this was exactly where you’d be. And that I knew you’d be listening in.” He commented.

“It’s not a bad thing that we know each other so well.” She disagreed.

“Sooner than later everyone will find you as predictable, though. We need to be a bit more careful-” He began.

“Please, Draco.” She rolled her eyes, “You can be such a worry wart-”

“You realize how much of a threat we’re under, do you not?” He prompted, “Rem, we are under the watch of people who won’t hesitate to curse us, or kill us for that matter.”

“Severus won’t-”

“You think Snape has _any_ control over those two?” Draco demanded.

“They answer to him, so-” She stopped suddenly, tipping her head slightly.

There was noise from the corridor outside. Voices found their way into the alcove where they stood hidden.

“I’ve gotten a bottle of Veritaserum from Snape’s cabinet.” Alecto’s low tone was hardly audible.

“Next we need only to get our hands on Longbottom or that Weasley girl.” Amycus responded.

Remington and Draco stared at each other, both straining to hear the conversation in the hall. The voices were quieting, moving farther from their hiding spot.

“I have to tell Severus.” Remington breathed.

Draco pushed her back against the wall as she went to go around him. “At least wait until they’re gone, Alvers.”

“We are meant to be in Transfiguration right now. So is Neville, they know where to find him.” She pushed past him.

“Alright, Alvers,” Draco said, following her out of the alcove. “You’re not snitching on your own this time.”

“Go to class, Draco, you’re farther behind than I am in Tra-”

“I doubt it, Alvers.” He disagreed as they started up the staircase. ”Besides, why should you get to have all the fun?”

“Fun, Malfoy?” She remarked.

“C’mon, Alvers,” He said, “I’m not disagreeing with you about what you’re doing for once. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Prat.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Draco chided jokingly.

“Pull your head out of your ass while you’re at it, Malfoy.”  Rem shot back flippantly as they reached the floor that housed the  entrance to the headmaster’s tower.

“Oh, you want me to get your knickers out of a twist, Alvers? I can arrange-”

“No, Malfoy-” She started, but his hands seized her hips and pulled her against him. She turned in his hold, pushing her palm against his chest as she did. “I wish we could joke around, Draco, but we have important things to take care of.”

He crossed his arms, “Lead the way, Alvers.” He could see a muscle jump in her jaw. Whether it was caused by irritation or frustration, he wasn’t sure.

-=-=-=-=-

“This is a first.” Snape drawled from behind his desk as Rem and Draco strode across the room. “Usually the pair of you chose to harass me individually.”

“Severus, we’ve overheard the Carrows-” Rem began.

“Let me guess, Remington.” He said, folding his hands together, his eyes focusing in on her knowingly. “The Carrow twins have fabricated a far-less-than-ingenious plan to wring information out of the D.A.”

Unperturbed, Rem added, “They intend to steal Veritaserum from the potions closet.”

“The Carrows have been increasingly insisting something be done about the D.A.” Draco remarked, drawing Snape’s eyes towards him. They looked at each other, clearly sharing something Rem was not aware of. “You know what they’ve suggested.”

“Suggested? What have they suggested?” Rem demanded, looking between the two.

“You think it wise to bring this up in front of Remington?” Snape hissed, clearly displeased.

“She can warn them.” Draco argued.

“When did you begin to care about the D.A., Draco?” The older man snapped.

“I care about Remington, and it’s enough to protect those who she loves.” Draco responded.

“The D.A. have backed down, they’re laying low-” Rem began to say.

“That means nothing to the Carrows. Anyone with opposing beliefs, whether acted on or not, is fair game.” Draco spoke over her.

“What are they going to do-”

“Public use of the Cruciatus to all and any known D.A. members.” Severus said abruptly.

“You included.” Draco added.

Rem’s mind flashed back to when she was tortured by Alecto, when the feeling of hot iron sliced across her face. “We can’t let that happen. A lot of the older ones have already been tortured, but the children…”

“Something extreme must be done in order to keep the Carrows appeased.” Snape said, looking at Remington.

Rem’s folded arms dropped to her side. “You want _me_ to think of something.” She said in disbelief.


	47. Goodnight Story

“What are you doing out here?”

The voice startled her and she spun, looking to see a light just down the hall. In its glow she could make out Neville’s face.

“It’s late, you know you shouldn’t be out here.” He continued.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She answered, sliding her wand into her back pocket again, she hadn’t realized she’d pulled it out in the first place. “Lavender’s snoring up a storm and I was feeling a bit restless.” In all honesty, she woke up from what was now a rare, but normal nightmare. She was hoping to find Draco, as she knew he was out tonight. This didn’t escape Neville’s attention.

“Who’s patrolling with me tonight?” He asked, suspicion tainting his tone as he approached.

She had the decency to look sheepish. “Draco.”

She could see Neville roll his eyes, the wand he held dimming. “I should’ve guessed.” He gestured that they keep walking. “Glad I haven’t run into him.” He muttered.

“I wish you two wouldn’t hate each other so thoroughly.” She remarked. “You’ve had six years in the same school already, surely that’s enough time to get sick of insulting each other and settle on mutually ignoring each other.”

“He’s all for everything I’m against, Rem. And what _you’re_ against, too.” He said, “It’s a little difficult for me to _not_ hate him even more now that he’s openly following You-Know-Who and-”

“He doesn’t want that, Neville. He really didn’t have a choice, and you realize that, I know you do-”

“But what would he have chosen?” Neville inquired. Rem opened her mouth, but closed it right away. She didn’t have an answer. “ _What would he have chosen?_ ”

“I don’t know, Neville!” She replied honestly, “Probably exactly what he did chose. But why does that matter so much now? He would be dead by now if it weren’t for Snape saving his ass, and his family is being trampled down. I was at the Malfoy Manor over Christmas, I know how bad things are.”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s on the right side.” Neville said, not as argumentative as before.

“How many times has he helped the D.A. this year?” She asked pointedly, “How many times has he caught kids out at night and scared them into not doing it again, but not turned them in?”

He was silent for a moment or two. “You know better than I do, but you’re right.” He said reluctantly.

“He’s awfully high and mighty, but he’s no Gryffindor, Neville.” She said softly. “He doesn’t have it in him to fight back. He’s too proud to admit it, either.”

“Then why on earth does he hate me so much? If he doesn’t hate me for Death Eater reasons-”

Remington laughed. “Draco seems quite convinced that you have a thing for me.” She remarked with a roll of her eyes. “That’s why he’s the way he is with you.”

Neville was quiet for a moment, “Rem, you remember Valentine’s Day, the first year you were here? You, Fay, Seamus and Dean invited me to the Three Broomsticks with you?” She nodded, studying him. “I fancied you quite a lot back then, but then, a fair amount of boys did. You were a new face. I felt like we might have some in common, you know. I knew you were coming from a rough situation with your dad and all. Of course, nobody really knew about you and Malfoy yet, and you and Seamus seemed to be hitting things off-” He let the sentence fade.

Rem looked down, “Yeah, me and Seamus… Well, things wouldn’t’ve worked out. I did kiss him once, you know.”

“I know. I shared a dormitory with him.” Neville commented,

“He told?” She demanded.

“The boys in that dorm… We all know more than what we’d probably like of each other.” He reiterated. She laughed, he smiled and neither said anything for a moment. “If things were different, Rem, I can’t say I wouldn’t have some feelings for you. But you’re engaged, and I need honest friends now much more than I could possibly need a girlfriend.”

“That’s a good idea.” She said, “I can’t tell you how much hell it’s been, trying to be in a relationship in this war. Worrying, arguing about stupid things we do-” Rem said, “Not that I’d change it, but it’s not easy.”

“Nothing good is ever easy, Rems.” Neville shot her a smile, which she returned effortlessly.

They walked in silence for a while before Remington spoke up again, figuring she probably shouldn’t stay out of her dorm too late. “I suppose you have a job to do,” She said, “I should leave you to it.”

“I can walk you-”

“No Neville, I’m a big girl. I can make it back to Gryffindor Tower on my own.” She said, giving his shoulder a gentle pat before turning down a side corridor where she knew she could find a shortcut behind one of the tapestries.

“Goodnight, Rems.” Nevillie called after her.

“Goodnight, Neville.” She returned over her shoulder.


	48. Dementors At The Door

Someone was shaking her shoulder. She jerked up, wide awake.

“Shh! Rem, it’s me.” A voice shushed. It was Ginny, her bright brown eyes looking into Remington’s face.

“What is it- What’s wrong?” Rem demanded under her breath. “Is everyone alright-”

“Everything’s fine, I just…” Ginny rubbed her temple, “I think you should see this.”

“See what?” Rem asked, climbing out of her bed, feeling a bit chilled in her pajama shorts. She followed the red-haired girl to the window, where she drew back the drapes just enough for them both to peer out.

Remington froze. There were Dementors… _everywhere_. They were floating close to the castle, ambling not far from the windows.

“They’ve been getting nearer every night, I guess.” Ginny remarked softly. “They’re causing the kids nightmares.”

“This is bloody ridiculous.” Remington muttered. There were chills up her spine. In the back of her mind, she could hear squealing tires and crunching metal. She yanked the curtains back. “I’m going to see Severus.” She announced under her breath, marching towards the door.

“You don’t have to go right this second-” Ginny started to object, following her onto the stairs.

“Well I am.” Rem argued.

“Then at least let me come-” Ginny began. “I don’t think Snape will be happy with being woken up, and I-”

“Ginny,” Rem began, casting the girl a glance, “He’s my godfather, and he – whether you believe it or not – cares about me. I’ll be fine.”

When she swept up the stairs into the Headmaster’s tower, she was surprised to see that Snape was still up, sitting behind the desk and looking wholly exhausted. He looked up at her, composing himself almost instantly in her presence, as she strode inside.

“What brings you to this tower so late, Remington?” He inquired coolly, though his eyes read his annoyance.

“There are _Dementors_ right outside the windows, is there nothing you can do to make them keep a healthy distance?” Rem prompted, narrowing her eyes at Snape, who merely looked back at her.

“Remington, I may be Headmaster of the school-”

“The students are terrified enough because of that _exact fact_.” She pressed, “And the Carrows have left their mark on nearly every student- Severus, there are _first years_ that have experienced the Cruciatus Curse!”

“There is only so much I can do, Remington!” He snapped, standing up behind his desk. “If I start to attract _any_ hint of doubt, I will be pulled from this position, do you comprehend that? If that is the case, Hogwarts will be placed under the direct control of the Carrows.”

Rem stood in silence. She knew this. The room was absolutely quiet as she paused before speaking, “I can’t handle seeing these eleven-year-olds with black eyes and bruises and bandages.” She said quietly. “I can’t handle knowing how much this will affect _all_ of these kids, Severus.” She lowered herself into one of the chairs placed before his desk.

Snape did the same, sitting back in his seat, “I will do what I can with the Dementors. I cannot guarantee any progress on the subject.”

She rested her head in her hand, her elbow propped on the armrest, then looked back up at him after a couple moments, “I have to ask you a favor.” She said. He steepled his hands, inviting her to continue, even if he didn’t like the mention of a _favor_. “Me and Draco… we hope to marry in the summer. After graduation.” She began. “My father’s gone, and I happen to be in need of a father figure to give me away.” Snape openly stared. “I’m- I’m asking you to walk me down the aisle.”

He cleared his throat, “I- believe I could- I would be honored, Remington.”

She smiled, “Thank you, Severus. You’ve helped me so much since I moved here. Since my father passed. I think it’s only right that you give me to my- well, I guess it’ll be my husband.”


	49. A Game Of Simpler Times

“Alvers!” “Oi!” “Bloody hell.”

Remington couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Leave it to the manly men on the Slytherin Quidditch team to be total drama queens about a girl walking into their locker room. They were all sufficiently clothed, so she was hardly worried about that.

“Honestly, you’re bad penny.” Blaise remarked. “You turn up everywhere you don’t belong.”

“Oh, Blaise, you love me.” She joked, tossing Draco his jersey. His eyes had been locked on her since she walked in.

“I wonder where you found that.” Phillip Harper commented sarcastically, who was Draco’s replacement Seeker the previous year, but now acted as a Chaser. He was in the year below them, but clearly not intimidated by his seniors.

“Piss off, Harper,” Garrick Newbourne, in the same year as Harper, and the team’s new Keeper, cut in, “At least Malfoy can get a girlfriend, unlike your sorry ass.”

Rem was hardly concerned about bickering underclassmen, however, and clearly so was Blaise, as he tossed her a Slytherin scarf- the same that he’d lent her at a Quidditch match the previous year.

“I thought maybe you could use it more than my locker.” He stated, looking down his nose at her.

She grinned, wrapping it about her neck and climbing onto the bench so she could lean over and peck him on the cheek. “Why thank you, Blaise.”

He jerked away and unceremoniously wiped his cheek with the hem of his sleeve.

Draco caught ahold of her waist and pulled her back. “What about me?” He whispered into her ear, arms wrapping around her.

She gave a light laugh, “Good luck, Draco.” She said, leaning to give him a kiss on the cheek as well, but he turned his head and pressed his lips against hers.

“Get a room!” The voice was out of place, but slightly familiar at the same time.

“The hell are you here for, Urquhart?” Draco said, releasing Remington, who spun around.

It was the last Quidditch captain, before Draco took the position. Adam Urquhart had left Hogwarts the year before, and was not of particularly tall stature, but was notably muscular.

“I can’t come to wish you sods luck?” He grinned.

“You think we need luck?” Draco prompted, “When was the last time we lost against Hufflepuff?”

“When was the last time we had this many first-time players on the team?”

“The hell does that matter when I’m catching the snitch?”

“Full of yourself as always, Malfoy.”

Rem took her leave, heading into the Slytherin stands to sit next to Daphne, Tracey, Pansy, and Theodore. The four welcomed her into their midst eagerly.

“How are you Rem?” Daphne asked with a smile. Her blonde hair was tied in a neat braid and tucked into a green and silver hat.

“I’m okay.” Remington sat down beside her.

Tracy leaned forward to see around Daphne. “Did I just see Urquhart, or am I imagining things?”

“No, you saw him. He’s in the locker room with the boys now.” Rem replied.

The two teams marched onto the pitch, Draco and Blaise carrying the box containing the various balls out to the center.

“I still can’t believe Malfoy convinced Blaise to actually play on the team.” Theodore mumbled.

“He’d been trying since practically fourth year.” Pansy added. “Blaise is good, but he’s not much for a team player…”

“Blaise didn’t want to be on a team with some of the half-wits that play for Slytherin.” Tracy remarked, “Crabbe and Goyle might do a good job slamming around a bludger, but that doesn’t make them any better company.”

“I’m glad they finally stopped just blindly wandering around at Draco’s heels. They’ve grown more independent, at least.” Pansy threw in.

“I’m glad you did, too, Pansy. You’re much more fun now.” Daphne murmured. Pansy smiled at her.

As the game began, Rem couldn’t help but feel impressed by how good Draco managed to remain at the game despite everything that was going on. It seemed almost as though the state of the world melted off him as soon as he got on a broom. She wished that he could be like that more often.

“The hell are you doing Longbottom?” “Get to your own stands, Gryffindor!”

Rem looked over to see Neville walking up the stairs towards where she was seated. He seemed to be in a hurry, and looked a bit shaken, nonetheless uncomfortable. She stood up, stepping past Daphne. “Neville, what’s- ?”

He made it up to where she was and leaned in to talk in her ear, so no one would overhear. “I wouldn’t come up here if we didn’t need you, but we’re having trouble keeping the Dementors back.”

She shifted back to look at him, “Why didn’t you get me sooner?” She brushed past him, heading down the stands, Neville on her heels, “Why wait until you _need_ to get me?”

“Rem, your fiancé is on the pitch, I didn’t want to make you miss the game-”

“I’ve seen Draco play plenty of times before, I know he’ll do spectacularly. But that won’t happen if the- if the game’s interrupted.” She was careful not to mention Dementors around the unassuming students.

“It’s not that bad, Rem.” He assured her, “Well, not yet, anyway. But you’re one of the best at casting a Patronus, so it-”

“Oh, stop.” She said, rolling her eyes, “Is Snape out here?” She asked, glancing at him as they stepped out of the stands.

“Somewhere, I think. Hagrid said he’s the one who warned about the Dementors.”

“Alright, good. Maybe he’ll actually do something about these bloody soul-suckers now.” She muttered, “Well, where’s the rest of you guys?”


	50. Cold As Ice

The horn blew. The match was over. Remington released her Patronus and then promptly lost her footing and toppled into the snow. She’d been so deeply concentrated on holding the spell that she didn’t realize how tense she’d gotten.

“C’mon,” A voice came over her shoulder before someone gripped her under the arm and pulled her back to her feet. She brushed the snow off and looked back up at Neville, who looked passively concerned. “You feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired-”

He’d reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wrapped piece of what she assumed was chocolate. She’d heard that was a good counter to the effect of Dementors. She thanked him and took it when he held it out for her.

“Sorry again, you know, for making you come out here-”

“If I’d really wanted to, I could’ve told you to piss off and not come down here.” She remarked tiredly. He flashed her a good-natured smile and headed over to where Ginny and Fay stood a little ways off. Remington started making her way back to the pitch, her hands shoved in her pockets. The one thing she’d wished she hadn’t forgotten was a pair of gloves. Her hands felt like they were frostbitten, or at least quite close to it.

As she started down the tunnels to the locker rooms, she noticed someone walking out, towards her.

“Alvers,” Blaise said, “Didn’t think I’d notice you sneaking off with Longbottom?” He eyed her, coming to a halt.

She opened her mouth and took in a breath before speaking, “The Dementors were circling the pitch. I left to help hold them off.” She explained.

“Figures, off working on your heroicism.” He said, waving away her dissent, “Malfoy didn’t notice, and I decided to leave the explaining to you.” She made a move to step past him and continue down the tunnel, but he grabbed her arm, causing her to look back up at him. “Lord, Rem, you’re white as a sheet.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m just cold.” She said.

He gave her a doubtful look, “Anyway, we won. Hundred ninety to forty.”

“Thanks, Blaise.” She murmured as he let her go and he headed one way and she the other.

When she entered the Slytherin locker room she found Draco still in his Quidditch gear, carrying the trunk containing the various balls that were used in the match across the floor. He promptly set it down on the nearest bench when he noticed her and strode up to her, beaming.

“Great job, you were flying as good as ever-” She began as he approached her.

“Of course I was.” He said cheekily, unwinding Blaise’s scarf from her neck, “And we didn’t even cheat this time.” He added, but his expression dropped when he grabbed ahold of her hands. “Rem, you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine-” She started to say, but he spoke over her.

“Why are you so cold?” He questioned, raising a hand to cup the side of her face. Even her cheek was icy.

She pulled his hand away, “I left the stands about halfway through. The Dementors were leaving the forest-”

“Why don’t you ever let the others handle these things, Alvers?” He pressed, then turned and walked deeper into the locker rooms.

She followed at a slower pace. “They needed my help, Draco. Since Harry and Hermione are gone, and Ron, too-” He made a disdainful sound, reaching into one of the showers and cranking the faucet on. “They need me! Luna isn’t around, either, and she was one of the leaders now!” He seemed to be ignoring her, not looking at her, his hand under the water, gauging the temperature. “And I’m in the least danger of them all, with Severus my uncle, and I’m with you-”

Draco started back over to her, seizing her winter cloak and undoing the buttons. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t in danger.” He growled, pushing the cloak off her shoulders and grabbing the bottom hem of her button-up shirt, pulling it over her head. She was shivering. “You can handle the rest, I trust.” He stepped aside and tipped his head in the direction of the shower.

She went over to the shower, shedding her jeans along the way before stepping inside. The water was lukewarm, but it stung her face and her hands. She increased the water temperature slowly, as her body adjusted. Her tanktop soaked up the water and clung against her. The last time she’d worn her clothes in a shower had been in this very locker room, the previous year. It’d been a rare occasion that Draco had ignored the looming threat of his mission. She’d slept with him that night, for the first time.

“Draco?” She called.

“Is everything alright?” His voice returned from somewhere out in the main area.

“Could you just come here, please?”

A couple moments later, he pushed the curtain aside. She turned to see that he’d started changing. Shirtless, with his white pants undone, but still hanging on his hips.

He seemed to force his eyes not to traverse her frame, watching her face expectantly, but she merely grabbed onto his arm and pulled him into the shower with her, burying her face in his chest.

“Thank you, Draco.” She mumbled, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She felt him tip his head forward, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Do you see why I worry so much, why you piss me off all the time? I think you’re safe, sitting with the Slytherins, and you’re out there fighting a horde of Ministry Class five non-beings.”

“It’s who I am, Draco. I can’t let-” He snorted dubiously before she could finish the thought. “Stuff it.” She said, pushing him away, but grasping the sides of his face. His hair dripped down over his face, the platinum color unchanged with the dampness.

He, in turn, looked down on her, her wet hair, wet shirt- “Good God, Alvers.” He muttered before his lips came down on hers and she was pushed back against the wall of the shower. His fingers dug into her hips as his mouth trailed down her throat.

“You know, Draco,” She began, exhaling the words and dragging in a breath before continuing. “I was thinking that perhaps we’d wait for the wedding night before we sleep together again-” She broke off with a startled little squeak when he bit her neck.

“You wanna mention that _now_ , Alvers?” He demanded. She laughed outright. “You little-”


	51. Popular

She yanked the rope on the hammock tight, glancing over at Ginny and Neville who were with the underclassmen who were moving into the Room of Requirement. Remington was helping tie up more hammocks for them in the cavities in the walls. The sheer amount of hammocks in the walls was getting ridiculous. There were nearly enough people staying in the Room of Requirement to make a House of their own. She was getting nervous about what this could mean if she graduated that summer and the war never came to a close before the next year started. Sure, Ginny would be there. Hopefully. Others might step up, but Remington was the main link between the Death Eaters and those who prayed for Harry’s return. She’d drug Draco into it, and he’d be gone the next year as well.

Maybe she’d find the Dark Lord and put an end to this herself, she thought purely out of irritation. She was fully aware she could never face You-Know-Who and live. She could challenge Death Eaters and she could probably ice some of them, but she was nowhere near strong enough for the Dark Lord. Especially not when she was so horrendous at Occlumency that she couldn’t even keep Draco out of her head.

She pulled the last hammock taut and strode over to where Neville was, stepping up beside him. “That should do it.” She said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Thanks Rems.” Neville told her.

Ginny nodded at her and grabbed a trunk that one of the kids had brought with and began to haul it over to the new row of hammocks.

“You’re the one who’s marrying Malfoy.” One of the underclassmen said somewhat meekly.

Remington looked down at the one who spoke, unsurprisingly a Gryffindor. She was pretty sure the boy was a fourth year. That’s when she realized that the rest of them were either staring at her, or trying to avoid doing so. She had that effect on a lot of students after she received the scar. Before, most people recognized her as Malfoy’s girl, but now she could never be mistaken. She was feared. Rumors had surfaced that she originally got the scar from the Dark Lord himself, who was trying to put the Mark on her. Others said that Malfoy was the one who did it. There were all sorts of wild and implausible stories about her. And nobody seemed to know for sure what side she was on.

“What gave it away?” She said, looking down at the kid, whose eyes remained locked on the left side of her face. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s rude to stare?” She said teasingly, but suddenly Neville’s eyes were the only ones on her.

“Come on, Rem.” He said, nudging her arm with an elbow. “Play nice.”

The corner of her lips curled into a smile, “I’m going to head to the dungeons for patrol. I’ll see you later,” She said, a hand brushing his arm as she stepped past him and headed for the door.

“Behave, Rem.” He called after her warningly, but there was a friendly warmth to his tone. She just tossed a hand over her shoulder in acknowledgement.

Her feet carried her down the seven flights of stairs swiftly.  The wall hiding the Slytherin common room slid open from her when she stated the latest password. Inside, there were quite a few students milling about, sitting before the fire, seated at tables doing homework or playing Wizard’s Chess. She zeroed in on the first seventh year she saw.

Theodore Nott was at a table beside a window that opened out into the lake. He seemed to be writing some assignment or another.

“Hey Theo,” Re m said as she approached, leaning her elbows on the table across from him.

He glanced up, but continued writing. “Hi Remington,” He returned. “On patrol duty tonight?”

She nodded, her eyes flicking across the room. Hardly anybody spared her a second glance in the Slytherin Dungeons anymore. “Unfortunately.” She said.

“Malfoy’s up the stairs,” He said, looking up at her again for a second.

She smiled slightly, “Thanks Theo.”

“As good of friends as we are, Alvers,” He said with a small smirk, “I know you didn’t come to chat with me.”

She shrugged, “Fair point. See you ‘round,” He nodded, refocusing on his essay.

She headed across the common room and up the stairs to the boy’s dormitories. She knocked on the door when she reached the seventh years’ room. She heard some voices on the other side, but couldn’t make out what was being said before the door opened.

Draco stood in the doorway, looking down at her. “Alvers,” He greeted.

She pursed her lips slightly, then spoke, “Would you come walk with me?” She asked softly.

He just looked at her for a moment. They both knew that meant she had something she wanted to talk about. “Give me minute.” He said finally, pushing the door open more so that she could step inside. A couple of the beds had curtains pulled shut, and Blaise was leaning against the end of his bed, shaking his head at her as she walked in a couple steps.

Draco grabbed his suitcoat off his bed, pulling in on over his button-up as he walked back over to her.

“I knew it was you, Alvers.” Blaise remarked. “You’re the only one who ever knocks.”

“I’m one of the only people who comes here and doesn’t live here.” She said. Of course she’d knock.

“Pansy never knocked.” Blaise muttered.

“Still doesn’t,” Draco said irritably. “When she’s here for Nott.” He brushed past Rem, and she quickly followed him down the stairs and across the common room, towards the entrance. When they were finally away from prying ears and out in the corridors of the dungeons, he spoke up again. “What’s this about?”

“Five more students.” She said quietly, “We just made accommodations for five more students in the Room of Requirement.”

Even though she didn’t say what she was feeling, he knew she was disappointed and frustrated. “”You’re doing as much as you can-”

“Which isn’t enough-” She began in irritation.

“Things aren’t that simple, Remington.” He cut across her sharply. “You can’t just work harder and make everything okay. Hogwarts isn’t safe and there’s nothing you can do to change that fact.” He added lowly. The last thing he needed was for the Carrows to overhear. “All you can do is try to clean up the messes. Nobody’s died here yet, so I’d say you’re doing pretty damn good job-”

“ _Nobody’s died_?” She repeated, “That’s your definition of a good job?” She prompted.

“With the way things are, yes.” He replied tersely.

-=-=-=-

 “Bloody hell.” Rem snapped, balling up her parchment and throwing it into the green flames without hesitation. Blaise looked up from where he was writing his own essay in the chair across from hers. “I can’t believe I just started writing my essay on _herbal_ potions ingredients and included _fire seed_.” She said in irritation. “Even I should know better.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “You were only a paragraph in, Alvers.”

She pulled another roll of parchment from her bag. “Yeah, another paragraph I have to write before this weekend.” She remarked. It was the few days before the Easter holiday, and she was desperately trying to finish all of her homework before she left in hopes that she might get to visit the Malfoys, or Draco could visit her. It wasn’t likely, considering how bad things had gotten even from over the Christmas holidays.

“You’ll have a week at home to write all the essays your heart desires,” Blaise added.

She just pursed her lips as she rewrote the heading on her parchment. They were both quiet for a while again.

“Remington.” Blaise spoke up finally. She looked up at him. “Will you spend some of the Easter holiday with me?”

She stared at him for a moment. “Do _you_ want me to spend some of Easter holiday with you, or does _Draco_ want me to spend some of Easter holiday with you?” She asked evenly.

Blaise’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “Malfoy me be concerned, but _I’m_ asking you.”

She nodded, looking into the green flames in the fireplace near them. “Maybe a couple days, Blaise.” She said, “Why does Draco not want me at my mother’s?”

Blaise made a face at his essay, basically expressing that he didn’t know. “I think things are getting worse at the Manor,” He said, “And his aunt knows more than he’d like about you.”

She chewed on the inside of her lip. Of course Draco would be concerned about her going home. It’s not as if nobody knew where she lived. If things were worse at home even than what they were over the previous year and summer, she could only imagine what it was like now. And at even the slightest provocation, she could become a target. She didn’t want to think about what could potentially cause that.

The Slytherin common room was bustling about them. Everyone was either packing, studying, or otherwise preparing for the week off. Not having enough confidence in her Potions ability to write her essay on her own, she’d asked to work on it with Blaise and have him look it over for her when she finished, and she’d check his for spelling and grammar.

“Is your common room not as fun, Rem?” Tracey asked, plopping onto the couch beside her.

“The people aren’t always,” She replied, looking at the girl.

“I’m flattered.” Tracey said, “I just wanted you to know that Daphne and I are getting tea in Diagon Alley on the Thursday of break, if you’d like to come.

Rem’s eyebrows arched and she smiled, “I feel pretty popular right now.”

“Don’t get used to it, Alvers.” Blaise remarked.

Tracey threw a throw pillow at him, “Don’t be bitter, Blaise,” She said, “Rem’s one of us now.” She looked at Remington, “She’s our friend.”

Rem grinned at the other girl. The certainly never intended to grow so close to the Slytherins. Not any of them. And here she was, sitting in their common room, doing homework with one, being invited to spend time with them outside of Hogwarts, and getting married to one if this damned war ever ended. “I’d love to, Tracey,” Rem replied. Tracey returned a beaming smile and got up, to go back over to where Daphne was seated. She looked over at Blaise, who was watching her almost dubiously. “And I’ll spend the rest of break after that with you?” She inquired.


	52. Easter

His feet carried him down the stone stairs into the cellar. His wand light split off to fill the sconces on the wall as he reached the landing at the bottom, and there he saw the old man, Ollivander, and the tiny, pale frame of Luna Lovegood.

She looked up at him when the room illuminated, squinting from the light that her eyes weren’t used to. A smile lit her face, making Draco feel worse than usual. She stood up and strode over to the gate, leaving Ollivander looking after them.

“Is it Easter already?” Luna asked. “I suppose I’ve been a few days off in my counting-”

He had a pair of sandwiches in his hand, reaching through the gate to hand them to the girl. She took them with another sweet smile and walked back to Ollivander, giving him one of the sandwiches.

“I hope things haven’t been too bad while I was gone-” He said.

“We’re still here, aren’t we?” Luna said, taking a bite from her sandwich as she walked back towards him.

“That isn’t necessarily a good thing.” Draco said, some brand of guilt eating at his insides. “I could have gotten you out if-” He continued under his breath.

“You’d only be in more trouble then.” She said airily. “Don’t worry, Draco. We understand.”

“We can’t all be Gryffindors.” Ollivander added between bites.

Draco peered at the man, not saying anything.

“How is everyone?” Luna asked.

“Most are in hiding. Things are getting even worse at Hogwarts.” He said. He remained with Luna for a short while, telling her what he knew of the D.A. and informing her of what he could. She was always an avid listener and very impartial. She was one of few people who never judged his past or the Dark Mark on his arm.

“It’s nice to see you again, Draco.” Luna said as he prepared to go back up the stairs.

He looked back at her for a moment, “You too, Lovegood.”

-=-=-=-=-

“It’s gotten quite dismal here, hasn’t it?” Daphne said, moving to link arms with Remington. She was already arm-in-arm with Tracey on the other side. “All these ‘Wanted’ posters and such. Florean’s has even closed.”

“Hopefully things will get sorted out soon. Summer without Florean’s is no summer at all.” Tracey added. “At least Sugarplum’s is still open. What do you two say we get some sweets to eat with our tea?”

“I haven’t had a chocolate frog in ages.” Rem remarked. “I’m all for some Sugarplum’s.”

Daphne laughed. “I’m glad you could come, Rem.” She said.

“We know Draco’s really concerned about you, but a girls’ day was well overdue.” Tracey added. “I would have asked Pansy to come, but she’s in France with her aunt for the holiday. Besides, you two haven’t always gotten along-”

“I think we’ve made a lot of progress.” Rem argued. “Haven’t we?”

“True. She was horribly jealous of you fifth year.” Daphne said, “Over _Draco_ of all people-”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Rem asked curiously.

“Well, he was never really _overly_ kind to her.” Tracey said, “Sometimes he’d be nice, but usually there was a lot of ignoring on his part.”

“He liked the attention,” Daphne explained, “But he didn’t want any strings attached. She had a hard time accepting that. Particularly when you came along and he gave all his attention to you.”

“All of us who knew Draco well enough knew something was up.” Tracey said, “He’d never taken interest in anybody like that before.”

“Like what?” Rem asked as they slipped inside the door to Sugarplum’s Sweets Shop.

“Like someone other than himself was actually worth his time and effort.” Tracey explained, heading towards the chocolate section as soon as they were inside. Daphne went for the sugar quills. “Don’t get me wrong,” Tracey said, folding her arms as she assessed her options of candy. Rem grabbed a couple chocolate frogs, but listened to what the girl was saying, “He’d fiercely defend some of his friends. He’s not heartless or spineless as some people think, but he’s always been most concerned about looking out for ‘number one’, if you know what I mean.” The Slytherin girl grabbed a chocolate cauldron and a small bag of fudge flies, looking back at Rem. “And then there was you.”

They went to the counter to pay, each girl with her own selection of sweets. Remington’s interest was piqued. It wasn’t often that she heard someone else’s view of Draco. That is, not including the Gryffindors that hated him. These girls, who’d known Draco far longer than even she had, were talking about how he’d reacted to her the past couple years when she hadn’t been around to see him.

“What do you mean _there was me_?” Rem inquired as they left the shop.

“Well,” Daphne began, “He wasn’t usually very subtle when talking about-”

“What she means is,” Tracey cut in, “That he was very boastful about encounters with girls. For example-”

“Tracey-” Daphne said warningly. It was very obvious that the two Slytherin girls were nearly opposites when it came to socializing. Tracey was very upfront and blunt. She said things exactly as they were with little filtration. Daphne was polite and tactful, and conscious of what a person should and should not say to each individual person. Daphne was the perfect, prim, and proper young woman of pure-blood aristocracy. Tracey was the product of a family of all men in a way that made it hard to assume otherwise.

Tracey either didn’t hear Daphne, or didn’t bother to listen. “When he felt up that Beauxbatons girl after the ball in fourth year-”

“Tracey, you really-” Daphne tried again, to no avail.

“Pansy was royally pissed, she’d been his date to the ball, you see-” Tracey said, “Practically told the whole House about it.”

Daphne cleared her throat, “But with you,” She began as they finally reached Rosa Lee Teabag. They walked inside, settling down at a table, pulling out their candies as the waitress brought them tea. “We’d know he’d have been with you for some of the day, or had conversation with you or something and he wouldn’t say anything about it.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Tracey said, “Keeping his mouth shut for once? Unheard of.”

Rem laughed, dropping a sugar cube into her teacup. She hesitated for a moment on whether to take more sugar, but decided against it. She usually could get away with three sugar cubes at home before her mother noticed and scolded her. Her sweet tooth was insatiable.

“I heard you’re staying with Blaise for the rest of the holiday.” Daphne said, raising her cup to her mouth.

“Yes,” Rem replied. “I’m actually going to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron after this. Draco’s worried about me being at home, I guess, for some reason or another.” She added a bit irritably, stirring her tea with her lips pursed.

“Draco _worried_ about someone?” Tracey said, breaking off a piece of chocolate something and popping it in her mouth. “Unheard of.”

Rem laughed with her, “Stop it.”

“Tell us about your friends, Rem.” Daphne said suddenly. “I’ve always thought Slytherins and Gryffindors could be great friends if it weren’t for this childish rivalry. What goes better than ambition and bravery? And now I guess you’re a novelty, our Gryffindor friend.” She grinned, “I want to know about the other Gryffindors.”

Rem chewed her chocolate frog thoughtfully. Her friends? Half of them were in hiding, whether it be in Hogwarts or otherwise. She knew she needed to be careful what she said. “Fay Dunbar has been one of my best friends from day one.” She said, “She was my first friend when I moved here. We get along great, all except for me dating Draco. It’s caused a lot of problems, actually. With all of my friends. They actually kind of resent me for hanging around with Slytherins so much.”

“Well poo on them.” Tracey said.

“ _Tracey_!” Daphne chided.

“What? You can’t have friends in your rival House? What troll crap-”

Rem laughed, “No, it’s not just-” She started to say. “They were my closest friends. They had my back and I had theirs and we went through a lot together, and now I’m kind of ditching them to make new friends. With people they don’t exactly get along great with.”

“I like them already.” Daphne said brightly, “Can I come with you to see them?”

Remington laughed harder. “You- what?”

“Daphne, you’re such a princess, you know that? Always happy, always liking people, ready to chat, perfect manners.” Tracey accused.

“I want more Gryffindor friends.” She said in explanation. “Sue me.”


	53. More Danger Than Before

Her fingers played with the fringed edge of the blanket in her lap. It was a heavy woven thing, old and rich and thick. Like so many other things in the room. The chaise she sat on was old, and rich, and packed to the brim with plush stuffing. The bed was like a massive golden cloud of satin. The carpets on the floor could nearly engulf her whole foot if they were fluffed up properly. The fireplace a few feet away roared with warmth and light. She felt like she was in a queen’s bedchamber. She knew most of the rooms in that place were probably just as lavish, but she was glad that the Zabinis had chosen that particular room for her.

One of the Zabinis in mention sat across from her in an armchair, his feet kicked up on an ottoman. His eyes reflected the flames from the fire, and the light of it danced over his dark skin. Rem was surprised that he hadn’t taken any interest in anyone at Hogwarts yet. There was an ample amount of girls who would happily look past his prickly demeanor if only for his sophisticated good-looks. If he tried, he could probably woo any girl (or otherwise) he wanted. But no, she thought to herself. She’d picked up on things here and there and knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle for someone to catch Blaise’s eye. He held so much spite for how his mother conducted herself romantically that he tried to push people away from himself, to be sure that no one would be attracted to him so he would never have to bother with wondering whether he was attracted as well. That was one of the main reasons he’d allowed Remington to get so close. She was already spoken for.

Nearly everything that anyone knew about Blaise was acquired through inference. He didn’t talk about himself, or his home life, or his mother. Nothing. He was a perplexity, a mystery, to most people. And he preferred it as such.

“Are you going to talk, or are you just going to sit there glowering at me?” Rem asked finally after they’d been sitting beside the fire for nearly twenty minutes without talking.

“I’m thinking, Alvers. Not glowering at you-” Blaise argued.

“Thinking.” She repeated, “What about?” She inquired, pulling the excess blanket into a neat pile on her lap that she clutched against herself.

His jaw set and he just looked at her for a couple long moments.

“Now you’re glowering.”

“Alvers,” He began. “I want to make it very clear that I’m not saying this for Malfoy’s benefit.” He said slowly.

“Crystal clear,” She said, anxious to know what he wanted to say, “Go on.”

“When we go back to the castle, you need to be exceptionally careful.” He said. “You’re going to be in even more danger than before.”

“Why?” She asked, “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know what’s happened, Remington,” He said, “But I need you to be careful. I have this odd, demanding notion to keep you safe.” He added in near-irritation.

“Because you care about me?” She pressed almost teasingly.

“If that’s what you call it, fine.” He said, “But I’m serious, Alvers.”

“Are you sure you don’t know what happened?” She asked again.

He shook his head. “Malfoy only said that I should take you to King’s Cross, and to not leave you at your mother’s alone. Something happened. Haven’t a clue what.”

+=+=+=+

Draco sat impatiently in a tall-backed chair in the drawing room. He’d been drug from his room and told to get dressed in the middle of the night. Nobody bothered to tell him why, not even his mother, who’d woken him. All he wanted was to sleep through the Easter holiday to get back to Hogwarts. He hated being at the manor. It was nearly unrecognizable from what it had been a few years ago. Sure, the rooms were the same, and most of the furniture was the same as well, but the atmosphere was entirely different. The presence of the Dark Lord hung heavy, even when he wasn’t there.

Draco glanced at his father, standing beside the chair, back straight as a needle and his hand resting on his snake-headed cane. Obviously whatever they were called down for was important. Lucius seemed very excited about it.

“Do I just get to sit here and wait, or do you mind telling me what I was woken up for?” Draco questioned.

“You’ll see soon enough, Draco.” Lucius responded.

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “You don’t know either, then?”

“Visitors. Your mother is walking them in now.”

“Must be some important visitors-”

Lucius shushed him as the door opened. Narcissa walked through, a group of Snatchers behind her dragging a chained mass of prisoners.

“The hell is this about-” Draco muttered irritably.

“What is this?” His father spoke over him.

“They say they’ve got Potter,” Narcissa remarked. Draco’s stomach fell suddenly. His annoyance of being woken up in the dead of night turned into pure dread. As a Death Eater, he should have been absolutely thrilled- Remington was rubbing off on him.

“Draco, come here.” His mother commanded.

He stood up, trying not to look as meek as he felt walking over to his mother’s side. They spun the prisoners around to bring Harry directly in front of him. Even though Potter’s face was swollen as if he’d been rubbing his face in something he was allergic to, Draco knew that it was him.

“Well, boy?” Greyback hissed from somewhere over his shoulder. Just the werewolf’s voice alone made him want to punch the glorified Snatcher in the throat. The urge surprised him. Any anger he had was usually inclined towards magical violence, not the physical kind.

“Well, Draco?” His father asked, having taken a couple steps towards him as well. His excitement was plain to Draco’s ears. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

“I can’t-” He could hardly bring himself to look at Potter. He had the opportunity to end the war then and there, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. “I can’t be sure.”

“But look at him carefully, look! Come closer.” Lucius rested his hand on Draco’s shoulder, drawing him a couple steps closer to Potter. “Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven-”

“Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?” Greyback snapped.

“Of course not, of course not!” Lucius said, clearly irritated by the werewolf. He closed what was left of the gap between them and Harry. He peered at Potter’s face for a moment. "What did you do to him?" He asked Greyback. "How did he get into this state?"

"That wasn't us." Greyback replied almost defensively.

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," said Lucius. He looked closely at Potter’s forehead, looking for a scar. "There's something there," He whispered. "It could be the scar, stretched tight.... Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

Draco stepped up next to his father, wanting nothing more than to be left out of the whole mess. “I don’t know.” He said, walking over to the fireplace where his mother was standing.

“We had better be certain, Lucius," Narcissa said. "Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord... They say this is his,” She turned a blackthorn wand over in her hands. “But it does not resemble Ollivander's description.... If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing... Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"  
  
"What about the Mudblood, then?" Greyback prompted. The Snatchers spun the prisoners around again so that Hermione Granger was at the front.  
  
"Wait-” Narcissa interjected. "Yes- yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"  
  
“I-” Draco began, desperate to be left alone. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to give Potter away, and lying was far easier when there wasn’t a room full of ligilemens watching him. “Maybe, yeah.”  
  
"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron Weasley. "It's them, Potter's friends- Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name-?"  
  
He rested his hand on the mantle of the fireplace, not even facing the prisoners anymore. “Yeah, it could be.”

Bellatrix stormed into the room suddenly. Draco didn’t dare move. The last thing he wanted was her to start interrogating him as well. He knew that lying to her was damn near impossible. Bella and his parents argued for a while before his aunt started screeching. He turned slightly, still leaning his hand on the mantle, just in time for Bellatrix to begin hurling spells at the Snatchers. Within seconds she had all of the Snatchers rendered unconscious and Fenrir Greyback pinned to the ground.

“Draco, move this scum outside.” Bellatrix snapped, pointing at the limp bodies of the Snatchers. “If you haven’t got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me.”

Why did he get dragged into it every time? Not just with Bellatrix and the Death Eaters, but with Potter and his lot, too. Then again, perhaps it was some his fault. He’s the one who pursued a Blood traitor in the first place. That’s what’s caused most of his problems.

He pulled his wand from his pockets, generally ignoring the ensuing argument between his mother and Bella. His jaw set tight as Bella called for all of the prisoners to be taken to the cellar except Granger. He needed to get out of there. He didn’t have the authority to say a single thing to Bella, nor did he dare to challenge her wrath. Particularly when she was inconsolable as she was just then. But also, he couldn’t bear to watch his classmate get tortured on the floor of his drawing room, no matter who it was.

He went down the steps as quickly as he could without bringing himself any extra attention. The unconscious bodies of the Snatchers hovered behind him. And then the screams started. Between Hermione Granger’s screams of fear and pain and Weasley’s screaming for her from the cellar, Draco was glad to nearly be out of the building. He didn’t want to think about what else would happen yet.

He dumped the Snatchers unceremoniously onto the stone in the courtyard, not bothering to do anything other than leave them heaped there. Let Bella berate him all she wanted. He was used to it by now. Maybe once, he’d have felt embarrassed or hurt by her shouting at him for being too spineless or soft to use the Killing Curse, but now he would rather endure that than imagine Remington’s reaction if he did use it.


	54. A Shattered Chandelier

He wished he could just hide outside and wait for this all to pass. Out here in the cold, he could almost believe that none of this was happening. But he knew that he would be expected back in the Manor. His mother was still in there, dealing with Lord knows what. So he went back inside. The voices struck him again immediately. Granger crying, Weasley shouting, Bella shrieking. It was absolutely deafening. As soon as he stepped foot into the drawing room, his father beckoned to him.

"But we can find out easily!" Came Lucius's voice, "Draco,” His eyes locked on his son, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there, “Fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

Draco reluctantly crossed the room, heading past the kitchens and towards the cellar. His gut twisted at she reached the top of the stairs. It would be so like Potter to try to attack him now, while he was by himself. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he could blame him. If he was the reason they got away, though… He wouldn’t live to see the next day.

“Stand back. Line up against the back wall.” He said as he started down the stairs. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll kill you.” He added. Surely, that would amuse Lovegood, but he hoped that Potter and Weasley might take it seriously. They were the only ones he was remotely worried about.

When he opened the gated door, holding out his lit wand, there they were. All lined up against the back of the cellar. He strode towards the goblin, seizing his arm and beginning to back towards the door, the goblin in tow. He locked the gate again behind himself and went back upstairs as Bellatrix began to use the Cruciatus on Granger once again.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack from the cellar below them.  Draco looked at his father and Lucius just looked back at him. “What was that?” He asked. Draco said nothing, though it sounded like something had just broken, or perhaps like someone Apparated. “Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?”

Everyone in the room was quiet as they listened.

“Draco-” Lucius began, but Draco’s harsh glare stopped him. “No, call Wormtail, make him go and check!”

Draco released the goblin before Bellatrix. He watched as the man called Wormtail scuttled across the room. Draco had hardly heard a better-fitting nickname before. He knew it was because the man, Peter Petigrew, had an Animagus form of a rat. Even while human he was markedly rodent-like.

Bella handed the goblin the sword she’d ben screeching about. “Well?” She snapped, “Is it the true sword?”

“No,” the goblin replied, looking closely at the blade and hilt, turning it over in his hands. “It is a fake.”

Bella positively melted in relief. Now that she no longer feared the repercussions that were implicated if the sword was real, she was positively ecstatic. “Good,” She said. With a flick of her wand, a gash cut across the goblins face and he fell to her feet shouting.

Draco felt sick by the ease with which his aunt maimed the goblin. It only made him think about how easily Alecto sliced open Rem’s face and left her horribly scarred.

“And now,” Bellatrix announced, kicking the goblin aside and pulling up her sleeve, “We call the Dark Lord!” She looked so triumphant, pressing her finger into the Mark. “And I think," She continued, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.”

Draco’s stomach dropped with the thought, but just as soon, Weasley and Potter came charging around the corner yelling hexes. Everyone in the room turned, wands at the ready. His father fell to the ground from a Stunning Spell and somehow Weasley disarmed Bella, Harry catching her wand.

It was his mother, him, and Greyback against those two, and it seemed a fairly even fight in all honesty. What the hell was he doing fighting _with Greyback_? He thought before Bella started screaming again.

“STOP OR SHE DIES!” There Bellatrix was, holding up an unconscious Hermione, with a blade held to the girl’s throat. “Drop your wands," She whispered warningly, "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!” Everyone froze, but the two boys kept ahold of the wands. “I said drop them!” She snapped.

“Alright!” Harry said sharply. He and Ron dropped the wands they were holding and raised their hands in defeat.

"Good!" Bella leered, "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!"

Draco moved forward, watching the two as he snatched up the wands and walked back to Bella, holding them while she finished speaking.

“Now,” Bella began quietly, somewhat placated for the moment. “Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight.”

Greyback grinned, which only caused Draco to feel even more like he was about to vomit. But they all were silent as the sound of something grinding drifted down from above them, and each of them peered up at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was one loud creak, and suddenly the chandelier began to fall. Bella jumped out from underneath it with a shriek. It hit the floor and shards of crystal flew everywhere all at once. Draco felt some of them cut his face and his clothes and he quickly shielded his eyes from the brunt of the onslaught.

He felt something grab the wands in his hand. _Let me at least keep my own wand, Potter._ He thought in irritation. _Don’t be so damn greedy_. But he really didn’t fight as hard as he could. Potter wrestled them from his grip and sent Greyback flying with a Stunning Spell, which actually was quite pleasing to Draco. His mother was yanking on his arm, trying to pull him back, away from the center of the room, but he pulled himself from her grasp, seeing blood on his hands and his sleeve from his face.

Bella was brandishing her knife like a sword, as if it were a real weapon in this situation, but his mother hand her wand pointed across the room. “Dobby,” She yelled in shock, “You! You dropped the chandelier!”

Dobby pranced farther into the room, pointing a shaking finger at Narcissa. “You must not hurt Harry Potter!”

“Kill him, Cissy!” Bella screamed, but at the same moment, Dobby had disarmed Draco’s very dismayed mother. “You dirty little monkey!” Bellatrix continued to screech. “How dare you take a witch’s wand?! How dare you defy your masters?!”

“Dobby has no master!” The elf said with conviction. “Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

Everyone scrambled around, and then they Disapparated. Greyback, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Draco were all left in that room with the broken chandelier on the floor between them all.


	55. Inferno

The prisoners were gone. All of them. It was his fault for not giving Potter away right off the bat. If he’d merely said ‘Yes, that’s Harry Potter,’ The Dark Lord would have been summoned and his family would be respected once again. And Potter and his friends would be dead. All of them. Rem, too, likely.

He couldn’t do anything to make things better. Things were going to be God-awful no matter what he did. If hadn’t fallen for a blood traitor, he would’ve been fine.

Well… Not necessarily. His home would still be overrun in that case. Now, if it weren’t for the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters....

He snapped out of the thoughts quickly. Though he was guarding his mind, the room was filled with aforementioned Death Eaters, nonetheless. And the Dark Lord would be here soon.

Everyone was silent. They all knew what was coming. The Dark Lord had been summoned, which was only supposed to happen when Potter was in hand. He was going to get there and there would be no Potter, and no prisoners. They would all suffer. His family most of all.

Draco wondered how many would die, and whether he would be one of them. The idea terrified him. At least Remington was safe. Or was she? When the Dark Lord came back, who was to say that he wouldn’t find Rem and use her to punish Draco?

His thoughts were abruptly cut off when the Dark Lord appeared with a menacing pop. “Why have I been called?” The snake-esque man demanded. No one dared to say a word. “Lucius, speak.” He snapped, the anger not in his voice resided in his eyes as he settled his gaze on Draco’s father.

“Potter… was here.” Lucius said quietly.

“Was,” Voldemort repeated. “Harry Potter was here.” The seething rage began to slip into his voice. Draco prayed that he would turn away from Lucius. Voldemort was not known for placing punishment only where it was due, or in even moderately just amounts. Lucius was standing directly in the Dark Lord’s line of vision, and so was likely to be the bearer of all of his fury. “And you mindless, inept, imbeciles let him go.”

=+=+=+=

His mother was sobbing quietly on the edge of his bed. She’d been tortured as well, but not to the same extent that he was. The Dark Lord knew that if he really wanted to hurt Lucius, he needed to go after his wife, and especially his son. Lucius was still downstairs.

Draco didn’t doubt for a second that the Dark Lord knew that he’d known it was Potter all along. The target on his back just got about twenty times bigger. All of the Death Eaters knew how low on the food chain he was. The Carrows wouldn’t give him even what little respect that they had been anymore. He couldn’t protect Remington any longer.

He’d never felt more worthless in his life.

His mother’s hand held onto his tightly, despite the massive bruises that were on her arms and that her hands had scabs from bleeding. Her eyes were red from crying. Draco knew he was in even worse shape. He’d had more than one broken bone, which his mother had given him some very ill-tasting potion for, and bruises and scrapes absolutely covering his body. From the way he felt, he could swear he didn’t have a single square inch on him that wasn’t bruised.

“Stop crying, mother.” Draco said quietly. It hurt his jaw to speak.

“Draco...” Narcissa began, her voice raspy from her tears.

“It’s not going to do any good now.” He remarked softly. His mother gave another pitiful sob. “Mother-”

“You’re my son, Draco! My child!” She said sharply, tears still on her cheeks, “My only child! You don’t know the pain all of this brings me!”

“Don’t think I haven’t felt that kind of pain, Mother.” Draco said, forcing himself onto his elbows. His arms and his ribs screamed. “I had to stand aside while Remington was tortured relentlessly, while her face was torn open. I know it’s not the same as your child, but I love Rem more than anything on this goddamn planet, and I’ve heard her scream in agony more times this year than I’ve heard her laugh.” He looked his mother in the eye for a moment. “You feel hopeless, well so do I. We’re not done yet. You have to be brave.”

Narcissa said nothing for a moment, her eyes examining his face. “You’ve gotten so mature, Draco. All at once. And I know it’s because of that girl… You’re beginning to sound like a Gryffindor, yourself.”

“I don’t sound like a bloody Gryffindor.” He scoffed. “I’m just being honest... ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’”

“Enough with quoting Inferno.” His mother scolded. “You’re starting to sound like your grandfather.”

“Good old Cygnus Black never read Dante.” Draco said derisively.

“Perhaps not, but he was cynical as they come.” Narcissa argued.


	56. Sticking Point

She stepped into the Great Hall, standing amongst the dwindling number of Gryffindors that had come back after the Easter holiday. They had fewer than half as many as they’d had when classes had begun in the fall. She’d shared a look with Neville and spoke to Fay briefly. Ginny hadn’t come back from Easter break. She knew it was probably for the best, but it didn’t make it sting any less. Her Gryffindors were alright, as much as they could be. Now, she needed to check on her Slytherins.

She looked about the mass of students, searching the group of Slytherins. She quickly found the Seventh Years, what with the tall men that were included in that description. She saw Draco’s pale hair, but she also saw the bruises all about his face. A black eye, a purple stain covering his entire right cheek and jaw, a split lip that was slightly swollen and blackish in color. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck.

Her stomach dropped through the floor. She wanted to completely forgo the usual House separation and run to him, but she restrained herself. She couldn’t risk drawing more attention to herself or Draco.

She hardly heard a word the Carrows said to ‘welcome’ them back to the castle. As soon as they were dismissed, she tailed him from the Great Hall. It was entirely too obvious that he was trying to avoid speaking with her.

She grabbed ahold of the sleeve of his robes at the bottom of the stairs to the dungeon. He looked back, ready to snap at some underclassman, but his expression changed when he saw that it was Remington.

“We need to talk.” She said.

He was clearly not pleased, but leaned closer to her, “Dungeon Five in ten minutes.” He said quietly in her ear, then continued on with the rest of the Slytherins.

She moved up the stairs against the trickling flow of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Fay was at the top of the landing, and grabbed her sleeve when she got there. “Why did Malfoy look like that?” She asked in a hushed tone. “He looked awful.”

Rem glanced at the other girl, “I’m going to ask him about it soon.” She replied, “I’ll stay down here, you can go upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” Fay asked. Rem nodded and watched the brunette follow the other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws up the staircase.

Remington turned back towards the dungeons and went down the steps again, this time continuing down the corridor and pushing open the door to a disused classroom. She paced in, folding her arms and lifting a hand to chew on her fingernail. The state that Draco returned to Hogwarts in was highly concerning.

The door opened and the light flicked on as Draco entered, wand in hand. She hesitated for a moment as they both looked at each other. She knew that he would see any sugary concerns as degrading, much contrary to what it would have been when she first met him, and he knew that she was itching to know what happened.

“Draco-” She began.

“I know what you’re going to ask, and you know I don’t want to answer.” He interjected.

“Okay,” She said, arms still crossed as she took a couple strides towards him. “So are you going to tell me, or are you going to pretend that you won’t.”

He glared at her for a moment, then slowly began to detense before he exhaled heavily and stepped past her to lean against the heavy professors’ desk at the front of the old classroom. “We had Potter.” He mumbled.

She looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. Her heart thudded heavily at the thought of Harry being in the hands of Death Eaters. “What do you mean?”

“We caught him. Harry Potter. Had him at Malfoy Manor, the whole deal.” Draco reiterated. “I don’t even know what happened. They had me identify him – he’d been hit with a stinging hex to the face or something of the sort – but I wouldn’t-couldn’t say it was him.” Rem was staring at him, her eyes large and intent, her mouth slightly open in incredulity and horror. “The Dark Lord was summoned, but Potter and his lot got away before he arrived. Of course, the Dark Lord was far from pleased.” He looked at the ground, trying to appear unruffled.

She took another couple steps to close the majority of the gap between them and stood a yard or less from where he was. “Those are magic-inflicted, then.” She spoke of the bruises.

“There isn’t a counter-spell or healing charm that will work on them.” He concurred.

“Draco…”

“Don’t pity me, Remington.” He said quietly.

“I don’t-” She began, “Draco,”

“We need to clarify something.” He interjected. “My family has no pull in the ranks of Death Eaters now. We are basically at the very bottom of the food chain. Because of me, not only is my loyalty being questioned, but my fathers’ as well. If I screw up at all, I’m dead. The Carrows basically have my balls. And if we don’t do something, they’re going to start using you to get to me.”

“What do you mean, do something?” She asked, although she already had a good idea of what his answer was going to be.

“Do everything the Carrows ask without question. Cut yourself off from DA completely.”

“I can’t-”

“You don’t have any other options, Rem!” He snapped. She turned her head away. “If we don’t play our cards perfectly, we’re all dead! The first to go is going to be you, to get to me, then me to get to my father.” He said, pushing away from the desk and seizing her jaw to make her look at him. “I can’t risk that. And I’d like to think you’re smart enough to agree.”

“I need to tell Fay and Neville-” She started.

“You can tell one person.” He said, “But any more than that is too dangerous.” She nodded slightly, the weight of the situation hitting her bit by bit.  “And for God’s sake, don’t tell me who you’re going to tell.”


	57. Cruciatus

On one hand, her fingers twisted the engagement ring in circles, the other gripped tightly onto the sink she was leaned against. “I can’t associate with you guys anymore.” She said softly, “It’s too dangerous for me to even talk to you after what happened at Malfoy Manor.”

“Why him, Rem?” Neville demanded, his eyes burning into her face even though hers were turned down. She had slipped him a note telling him to meet her in the fifth floor boy’s lavatory. Without any small talk, she dove right into the hard stuff. “Of all the people- It could have been Seamus, Dean, hell, that Zabini kid. You would have been safer.” He paused, closing his eyes for a second, turning his gaze upon the floor. “It could have been me.”

“It’s not worth it, Neville.” She said.

“I know.” He agreed softly. “I just-” He stopped again, looking back up at her. “I care more about you than anyone else in Hogwarts. I want you to be safe.”

“That’s why I’m cutting myself off from the DA.” She remarked. “I need to keep Draco safe, too. Not just me.”

“You asked me if I had feelings for you once, a while ago.” He began, stepping over to lean against the sink beside her.

“Neville, I hope this isn’t going the way-” She started to say, her body tensing up slightly.

“No, Rem. I do love you. But like family. You know?” He looked at her for a moment, waiting for her response. She turned her eyes on him, but didn’t say anything right away. “Neither of us really have much family, right? Well, we could be like our own kind of family. And I could be like the brother who hates your boyfriend.” He offered a smile.

She laughed gently. “I guess.”

“I don’t expect you to talk to me anymore after this.” He said, “And that’s alright. I just wanted you to know that you mean a lot to me, Rem.”

She nodded. “I know,” She said, “I’m sorry.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second. “Life sucks.”

“You’re telling me.” He breathed.

“I know you’ll take good care of Fay. But make sure you don’t tell her anything. The less people who know I’m not doing this of my own choice, the better.” She said.

“I know, Rems.”

She exhaled heavily. All she could do is hope that the war would be here and done before too much longer. She moved away from the sink she was leaning on and wrapped her arms around Neville in a hug.

He hugged her back and she was struck by how much taller he was than her. Only a few years ago he was the same height as her, and now he was several inches taller. He was easily as tall as Draco, if not taller still.

=+=+=+=

Remington walked down to the front of class, her insides screaming. She knew exactly what was about to happen, and all she wanted to do was turn and run out of the classroom. She could feel everyone’s eyes burning into her. Her eyes settled on Neville, who was staring back at her.

“Go on, Alvers.” Alecto said, the greatest jeer ever within her tone. “Demonstrate for us.”

Rem stopped once she’d made it to the very front of the room, standing opposite of Neville. She knew she really had no choice. If she defied Alecto now, now that she had no protection under her engagement to Draco, she was sure to be thrown into what was left of the old dungeons and killed later, if not right on the spot. She’d make a good demonstration of the Killing Curse.

But it was Neville. Neville, whom she cared for deeply, and whom she knew cared for her as well. Neville, who’d been a friend to her since she’d come to Hogwarts. Neville, whose parents were tortured into madness by this very curse she was being commanded to perform.

While she stared at him, carefully still and carefully expressionless, she could have sworn she saw him give her the slightest nod.

She raised her wand and the words seemed to leave her lips without her mind ever allowing it. “ _Crucio_.”

Neville crumpled to the ground in a writhing mass of agony. Rem could nearly feel her heart trying to tug her wand away, kicking and screaming. She released the spell only when she could see Alecto cross her arms in her peripheral. Rem looked at the woman as she let her wand fall back to her side.

“Very good, Alvers. I didn’t think you had it in you.” Alecto said, a terrible smile on her face. “Have a seat.”

Rem couldn’t bring herself to look at Neville, a panting, shaking figure slouched on the ground, or any of the faces in the class, people who had trusted her, or Death Eaters’ children who hadn’t yet been asked to do what she’d done, as she walked back to her seat. She silently slid back onto the chair beside Draco, who stared at her as well.

She shouldn’t have done it. She was officially the worst person in the entire world. They all _stared_.

Rem began shuffling through her papers as Alecto announced that the class was dismissed. She shoved everything back into her bag and threw it over her shoulder. As she passed the desk where Neville had sat, at the back of the class, she stuffed something into his bag and prayed he’d see it soon.

As soon as they’d left the classroom Draco drug her by the arm into an alcove beneath the stairs and cast a silencing spell. His hands seized her face, forcing her to look at him. She realized that she hadn’t looked directly at anyone since the ordeal.

“Stop doing that.” He said.

“What?” She asked, confused.

“The thing you do when you’re trying to do Occlumency. The thing with your face.” He replied.

She also hadn’t realized the thoroughness with which she’d put her guards up.

“Are you okay?” He asked, “Oh, fucking hell you’re not okay.” He muttered, pulling her into a hug.

“How sweet of you.” She mumbled, feeling like a limp noodle in his embrace.

“Jesus Christ, Rem.” He breathed into her hair. “I’m sorry.”

=+=+=+=

She propped herself against the wall of the fifth floor men’s lavatory, near the sinks. She rubbed her forehead anxiously, trying to think of how she could possibly explain herself. What on earth could she possibly say to even remotely make things better?

She just wanted to punch the wall, hex the mirrors, lay waste to the entire room, _anything_ to release her frustrations. She might need to take back her assertion of waiting until marriage with Draco, if it came to that. It was literally hell on earth already, what worse could it possibly do, anyway?

She thunked her head back against the wall. She hoped to God that Neville found the note she’d left him. The sooner she could speak with him, the better. Less time for her to feel like an utter and complete piece of troll shit.

“Rem,” The voice startled her, as she hadn’t heard the door open. It was Neville.

“Neville, I-” She began, but her throat dried up as she spoke. Instead, her eyes started to grow fuzzy. Oh God, not now-

“Rem, it’s alright-” He stopped a few feet away, unsure. He couldn’t see her eyes misting up from where he was.

“It’s not alright!” She disagreed sharply. “It’s not!” And the tears made their debut.

“Rem,” He said again, crossing the space to place a hand on her arm.

“I tortured you! How can that be alright? How are you alright?” She was trying not to full-on cry, but it was growing more difficult.

But he just pulled her into a hug. “I’m not talking to you until you aren’t hysterical anymore.”

“I’m not hysterical.” She argued, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Stop crying.”

“I’m not crying!”

“Are too.” He remarked. “Don’t lie to me, Rem.”

She said nothing, focusing intently on calming her breathing down. Once the hiccups of fresh tears had dissipated, she straightened her neck and he released her, looking at her expectantly.

“I’m sorry.” She said.

“For this or for… that.” He asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

“… Both.” She replied.

“Rem, I know you had no choice.” He said, looking directly into her eyes despite her trying to avoid his. “I’d take every Cruciatus Curse if it meant the others didn’t have to.”

“But-” She began.

“Listen,” He interrupted her, “I know what you want to say. My backstory doesn’t have to affect what’s happening now. Understand?”

She met his gaze finally. “Okay.” She said softly.

“Good.” He said, “Now if Alecto ever has you torture anybody again, I mean, I don’t want to be tortured, but I’d rather, you know.”

“I hate that.” She said pitifully.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Me too.”

“How the hell did we get here from fifth year?” She asked.

“Good question.” He said, giving her a tiny smile.

She cracked a weak one of her own. At that, his smile grew.

“You need to get some sleep.” He commented, “Do you want me to walk you to Gryffindor Tower?”

She rubbed her cheek guiltily. “Actually, I’m going to-”

“Right,” Neville remarked, cutting her off. “I don’t want to know.”

She gave him a weak and tired smile as they parted ways and she headed down to the dungeons.


End file.
